Closing the Circle aka Coming Home at RTN
by CMJavaGirl
Summary: What happens when young Michael Corinthos wakes from his bullet-induced coma almost 3 yrs. later & only wants his Uncle Jason, the most powerful crime lord in NY. How will Sonny and Carly, handle this? What about Elizabeth and her boys?
1. Chapter 1

_**I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father's protection.**__ ~ Freud_

A big vote of thanks goes out to Sterryvit for encouraging me to write this story and for being a great sounding board and devil's advocate.

A/N: This is a Jason story. There will be Liason but you will have to be patient and wait for it. I hope you enjoy it, Lisa

***

**October 16, 2010**

He approached the room at the end of the hall. It was quiet. It was serene. The soft blue that wrapped the walls reflected the soft warm lights that lit the room. In the morning the sun streaming through the windows on either side of the bed would bathe the room in a cheeriness that belied the room's purpose.

The bed was the center of the room. Not just by location, but by its occupant. Everything in the room, every person who entered was centered on the small body enveloped in the soft blankets that covered the bed.

He entered as softly as he always did. He was here for his usual weekly visit. He took up his usual seat at the left side of the bed. He opened the book continuing from where he left off last week. This was a new book for them. This book was about Denmark. And he read . . .

_Jutland and its 400 surrounding islands form one of Europe's smallest countries. Denmark has an abundance of picturesque villages and towns, historic castles and monuments, and a coastline that varies from broad sandy beaches to small coves and gentle fjords._

_Throughout the country, low rolling hills provide a constant succession of attractive views; there are cool and shady forests of beech trees, extensive areas of heathland, a beautiful lake district, sand dunes and white cliffs resembling those of Dover; nor should one forget the Danish islands, each of which has its own unique attractions._

_The Danes have taken strong measures to keep their coastline clean and tidy, keen for visitors to sample the many unspoilt beaches. Inland from the 4,800km (3,000 miles) of beaches . . . _

As she approached the room she knew he would be here tonight. He came once a week, but never the same night as the week before. He came in the small hours and never at the same time. He came when the fewest people would see him. He came in quietly and spoke to no one. He came in the same heavy boots that somehow never made a sound. But the air in the room told you he was here. And then you heard the sound; the steady sound of an unusually melodious and steady voice talking, endlessly talking, to the small figure in the bed.

_. . . and unspoiled islands, you'll find a landscape eminently suitable for cycling. Ferries ply between the mainland and the islands, competing with awesome bridges like the 16km (10 miles) Øresund link to Sweden. Ranks of huge white wind turbines are a feature of the modern Danish landscape._

She came in on quiet feet, feet that seemed to almost float over the floor. She came into the already quiet room to check on the small figure in the bed. She ministered to her small patient with a gentleness that matched the serenity of the room; and did nothing to interrupt the flow of the large man's roughly gentle voice as he read to her small charge.

You could almost miss the low and constant beeping sounds of the machines discretely positioned to be unnoticed. But as she checked each one, the readouts of vital signs, the ubiquitous bags that surreptitiously dripped life-sustaining fluids into the youngsters still developing body, and took the piece of paper off the machine that assured all who cared for the boy that his brain was still locked away and still functioned.

As she finished her nightly tasks, he looked up at her for a brief few seconds and gave his usual acknowledging nod. His eyes, his eyes said so much, but mostly she saw gratitude for her gentle and respectful care. He continued to read . . .

_Amidst such tranquility, it now seems almost surreal to consider that this country once spawned a notoriously violent seafaring race of people, the Vikings, feared throughout northwest Europe. Today, visitors to Denmark find a country that is peaceful, introspective, neutral and egalitarian. Its hallmarks are world-class design and uniformly high standards that apply equally to its accommodation and transport. Cuisine is excellent, especially in the realm of dairy products and scrumptious pastries. Add to this a people both amiable and helpful, with a facility for languages, and the result is an overwhelming sense of welcome._

_Copenhagen. Copenhagen is the modern metropolis that never forgot its history. It's a captivating, friendly city where your senses can roam and where there's always something wonderful around the next corner. Copenhagen is the largest city in Denmark and its capital. It is a wonderful cobblestoned city with many quaint medieval streets and buildings, that has something for everyone, but there is more to Denmark than its capital, and any visitor to the country is strongly advised to explore elsewhere too._

As the merest streaks of the sun started to break through the night's darkness he left the room as quietly as he had come. By habit the staff knew that he would be gone by this time. He was always gone by this time. It had been this way since the young boy had arrived almost two and a half years ago.

*

As I started to dry off from my shower I heard the familiar clatter of Jason's keys as they landed on his desk. I heard the heaviness of his usually light step as he walked to the kitchen to grab a cup of the steaming black brew that was already waiting for him.

Returning from these particular all-night excursions my taciturn friend seemed to be even quieter than usual and for a man who rarely spoke that was indeed a feat. On these mornings it was my practice to steer clear of my most revered and esteemed friend. Not out of fear, out of respect.

I wasn't exactly certain where Stone Cold went on these nights, although I had my suspicions. They were never the same night, but each week Stone Cold would disappear, would be unreachable, for the majority of the night. It was one of the few times he took a squad of guards with him. And upon returning home Stone Cold needed decompression time but not the same as when he had been involved in a fight or off plying his supposedly nefarious profession – this was different.

As I came down the stairs my friend and mentor was just taking a seat on the sofa. The fatigue radiated from Jason's body as he set his cup on the table and scrubbed his hands across his face.

"Good Morning, Stone Cold," I said quietly as I came down the stairs into the living room.

"Hey, Spinelli."

"I am glad to see that you have returned safely once again from your all-night departure to unknown whereabouts and doings."

My esteemed friend smiled a tired smile and being the soul of brevity, replied, "Yeah," and took another sip of the steaming black brew he favored not just in the mornings but around the clock.

"And all is well with you? No wounds? No problems that the harsh light of day will reveal from your weekly all-night clandestine excursion?" I asked, seeking both information and to lighten my friend's grey disposition.

"Spinelli, everything is fine. There is no reason for any concern. I wasn't doing anything dangerous." He assured me with a slight smile. "I'm going to take a shower and then we need to get started on the pier acquisition, we need to do a few things on the Michael Trust, and I want to talk to Monica about tonight." He got up from the couch with his usual alacrity and headed for the stairs.

"Stone Cold, don't forget you have an appointment with Diane today on the South American properties and with Giuseppe for the foundation."

"I know. Did the cleaner's drop off my tux? And did you print out every thing I needed?"

"Graciella put your tux in your closet and the printouts are on the desk." I said to his retreating back.

I was always glad to see my brooding friend regain his usual stoic footing. We had a bit of an odd relationship, the man I call my friend, my mentor, my master. He rescued me from certain death at the hands of the Darth Destructor Lorenzo Alcazar. He rescued me even though it was I, the Jackal, the Assassin of Cyber-Space that had arranged, at the behest of Alcazar, to create false and decidedly incriminating evidence against him and his organization. He rescued me while suffering a gunshot wound to his leg received in his first rescue attempt for my freedom, and, it should be noted, so that I could clear up the false evidence I had so convincingly laid.

I came to live with Stone Cold and the Goddess, his girlfriend at the time, only a few days later. I knew no one in Port Charles and he irritatedly took me in. I never would have expected that almost four years later that he would be my best friend, my mentor, a father and a brother to me.

It is with great awe and humility that I find myself in the exclusive circle of Jason Morgan's friends. Given my mentor's chosen profession, many would find it difficult to understand that being associated with such a man could bring any satisfaction to anyone except those who paid for his services.

I beg to differ. Jason Morgan is, to say the least, an unusual man, he is more honorable than most, his loyalty is never for sale, his integrity is beyond reproach, and at the same time he will tell you in no uncertain terms that he is not a good man. It makes me wonder how a good man should be defined.

I do not believe that a man is defined by his job, but rather by his actions in the world and to the people around him. Jason Morgan is not a 'good man' because he has been one of the most feared and deadly Organized Crime Enforcers and Assassins on the Eastern Seaboard and around the world for more than ten years. And now he is one of the most respected Organized Crime Lords on the East Coast and in Italy – he is a career criminal – alleged career criminal.

That I would be his chief confidant and keeper of his secret pain – is humbling and gratifying. I am sure there are many, many pains that my mentor does not share with me – it is never his wish to burden anyone unnecessarily. It is his goal to keep all those for whom he cares deeply as far away from harm as possible – this is the reason that he has removed himself from the people he cares for most, the love of his life, his son, well actually sons, his mother, his best friends.

It is an unsatisfying life for my friend for the most part, but he never complains – he accepts the choices he made and lives with the consequences of those choices. And from this self-imposed sentence he seeks no parole.

**The New York Extended Care Facility**

**New York City, NY**

**October 16, 2010**

"Hey, Mr. Man. How are you doing today?"

Smoothing the covers over him.

"It's a beautiful day out today. The leaves have all turned those beautiful colors. You remember the maple tree outside your room at home? Well, the leaves would match your hair." She gave a soft chuckle as she moved the hair away from her son's unseeing eyes.

"It's Morgan's birthday next week. You know he wants to see you so much. But, he doesn't understand, yet, that you can't wake up. He's still just a little boy . . . you're both my little boys." She picked up a picture of her two boys with her best friend.

"Your new little sister, Cari Jane is doing really well, she's starting to roll over and she wants to crawl so badly." Giggling a bit, "You should see Morgan with her . . . he tries so hard to help her, but you know she has to do it on her own. I wish you could see her."

After another thirty minutes of talking with her son, "Well, Mr. Man, it's getting late. I've got to get going. Tonight is the dance that Uncle Jason is giving in honor of Aunt Emily. It's the first annual Emily's Pink Ball and I promised your uncle that I would be there."

She brushed her son's hair out of his eyes again, and gently plumped his pillow.

"I know if Uncle Jason were here he would tell you about how everyone gets all dressed up and even though he doesn't like to he'll do it for Emily. Okay, Michael," she dropped a kiss on his cheek, "I have to go now if I'm going to get home in time."

She ran another smoothing hand over Michael's blankets.

"Uncle Jason sends his love. You have no idea how much he loves you, Michael. I know you are probably tired of hearing me say this all the time. Uncle Jason, and Mommy and Daddy, and Jax . . . we love you so much . . . we want you to always know that."

Carly left the quiet room, and left her son behind for another week until she could come again.

As she walked toward the elevators, one of the nurses stopped her, "Mrs. Jacks."

Carly turned to her.

"One of Michael's doctor's would like to speak with you."

"Is there a problem?" she asked the nurse nervously.

"No, I don't think so. Dr. Simonson wants to go over some changes in Michael's condition with you. His office is on the second floor."

_____________________________________________________________

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of ABC, Inc. and The Disney Corporation. No copyright infringement intended. Character's identities are merely borrowed for fun.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Favor and honor sometimes fall more fitly on those who do not desire them. ~ Titus Livius**_

A/N: A very grateful Thanks for all the wonderful responses to Chapter 1. This should be a fun chapter. If you would like to see the dresses I imagine the ladies of Port Charles wearing to tonight's ball they have been included at the end of the story. A big thank you to Sterryvit for encouraging me to write this story and for helping me shop for all those dresses! I hope you enjoy this chapter. ~~ Lisa ~~

**Bannister's Wharf**

**October 16, 2010**

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" Nik called out to her as he saw her walking passed the launch dock.

"Hey, Nik . . . I didn't expect to see you!"

"I need to take care of some business in town. Are you ready for tonight?"

"I think so . . . I'm nervous, though. I wish Monica hadn't asked me."

"You're going to do fine. You want to grab some coffee?"

"I'd love to, but I was called in for surgery . . . I'm on my way to GH right now," she rushed.

"Okay, I'll see you tonight, then."

She walked the rest of the way to GH thinking about when Monica had asked her to help open tonight's ball. It was an honor, she knew that. But she questioned if it was an honor she deserved. Only the fact that she owed Monica, she had kept Jake from her for so long, propelled her to agree in the first place. She owed Em, too. Her best friend, she had vowed after Em died to live the life she wanted – and that life included Jason – Jason as her lover, her friend, as father to her boys, their boys – but – well, it didn't happen – she didn't let it. She was still thinking about Jason as she got off the elevator . . .

"Elizabeth . . . good you're here. Dr. Drake has ordered the patient prepped . . ." Epiphany realized that Elizabeth hadn't heard a word.

"Elizabeth? Nurse Webber!" Epiphany said in that authoritative way she had of getting your attention.

"Yes . . . oh, Epiphany . . . I'm sorry, I was thinking about something else." Elizabeth apologized.

"Well, that's obvious. Let me guess . . . you were thinking about tonight?"

"Yeah, I was."

"Don't you worry . . . you're going to do fine . . . you'll see."

Elizabeth looked at her skeptically.

"Listen, you're not on the schedule today. Dr. Drake asked for you specifically and the patient is on his way to OR One. After that you have the day to yourself . . . why not go for a walk, clear your head and relax before tonight."

"It's a good idea . . . I better get going. I'll see you before I leave."

**Port Charles Waterfront District **

**Van Ness Avenue**

As Monica approached the new offices of The Invictus Foundation – she marveled at the changes that had taken place in her son's life in the past two and a half years. Two and a half years ago he would never have sanctioned her arrival at any office in which he did business. He worked overtime to keep the people he cared about away from him. Things had definitely changed for the better – at least a little bit. Jason was still uncomfortable with having loved ones around him and she had learned, for certain, that her son did love her.

One of the first things Jason did when he started to take his criminal, alleged criminal, organization into the more legitimate sphere was found The Invictus Foundation. It was not founded on, she was assured, the blood dollars of organized crime, but on the investment of Jason's ELQ holdings – his and Lila's. The foundation comprised charitable trusts, scholarships and research grants, clinics and sponsorships large and small.

Being uncomfortable openly conducting business or developing his own businesses in the states because of his illegal activities, Jason had originally formed the Morgan Invictus International Foundation in Italy. The Invictus International Foundation was established in 2001 as a general charitable concern, with grants and scholarships for the study of brain injuries. The establishment of Michael's Camp for underprivileged and grievously ill children, the Lilianna Horticultural Study for Sustainable Crops in Africa and several others. In 2003, in honor of his sister, Emily, the renowned _'My Sister's Place'_ was founded to service all the clinical needs of underprivileged or underinsured women waging their personal war against breast cancer. It was franchised throughout Europe and South America and would be opening its first Asian clinic in March 2012.

As she walked through the front doors into the richly appointed lobby of the Jace Building she was greeted by a strapping young man that to the general public would have appeared to be just a very good looking man there to meet and greet all who entered. He was, in fact, Enzo, one of Jason's most trusted bodyguards and he was there to meet and escort her to her son's exceedingly private office.

As she entered the reception area to his offices, she was struck by the beautiful simplicity of the space. She knew Jason couldn't care less where he worked, but the space was very him – natural colors, rich woods, simple lines and minimal decorations. Exquisite photographic essays adorned the walls and simple sculptures were strategically placed throughout. She only had a few seconds to admire the space when he came out of his conference room behind his accountant, Bernie Abrams.

"Dr. Quartermaine," he said, "how nice to see you, again."

"Mr. Abrams . . . I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"Not at all . . . he's all yours," Bernie said leaving her with Jason.

"Monica, I would have come to you," as he ushered her over to the sofa. "I'm not sure it's good for you to be here," he said letting a bit of distress seep into his voice.

"Jason, really, it's fine. I got your message and I was just at The Cosmopolitan going over some last minute details with the Event Planner . . . so I came over. You called . . ."

"Yes, I'm sorry, I didn't realize how bus . . ."

"Jason, what is it?" She tried to put him at ease, he was still not as comfortable with her as she would like. "Is it about tonight?"

"Yes," he rubbed his hand across his forehead, and squeezed his temples. She knew this was one of his few signs of stress. "Would you like something to drink? Coffee? I could have tea brought in . . ."

She laid a reassuring hand gently on his arm, "No, Jason, thank you. Jason, tonight is going to be great . . . Em would get such a kick out of what you've done in her name." Taking a moment to study her son, she asked, "So . . . what's got the Crime Lord of Port Charles so rattled?"

His head snapped up in alarm – and then he saw his mother smiling at him, and he relaxed a bit, "Monica . . . Mom . . . I've decided that I should open the ball with you . . ."

"Oh . . . Jason, that's wonderful . . ."

"Wait, no . . . I'm not going to speak . . . but, if you still want me too," he nervously clenched and unclenched his fists, "I'll open the dance with you."

"I think that would be great! It would be such a pleasure to dance with my son," she didn't say 'again' – it would remind him of the memories he no longer had. Not having the memories didn't bother him, but he knew that she missed the son he used to be and in an effort to keep their new relationship strong, she no longer mentioned his life as Jason Quartermaine.

"If . . . you're sure?"

"I'm sure and delighted. Now, I've got to get going." As they both stood up, she leaned in for a quick embrace and she was surprised when he gave her the slightest squeeze – it was another small moment to cherish.

As he opened the door for her, he squeezed her hand, "I'll see you tonight . . . Mom."

Monica nodded as she walked out to her waiting escort. It had been one of the best fifteen minutes of her life.

**Apollonia Ballroom**

**The Cosmopolitan Hotel**

The Appollonia Ballroom was the largest of its kind for miles. It was more than two-stories high, running the entire length of the hotel and was graced with a vaulted skylight that spanned more that three-quarters of the floor space. It was luxuriously decorated with bisque-colored marble columns encircling the room forming a unique promenade around the entire space. The floors were marble, the creamy walls were wainscoted in the Georgian style and inset with a pale gray silk damask. Niches strategically placed within the walls were adorned with beautiful sculptures and opulent floral arrangements. The balcony held the orchestra pit, as well as a gallery of places to relax, to smoke, to have private meetings and many other amenities expected in a hotel of this caliber.

The dance floor was polished to a mirror finish. The crystal encrusted chandeliers were lit with the palest of pink bulbs. The tables were dressed in soft pink and cream organza tablecloths, each with an elegantly luxurious centerpiece of pink and white roses, peonies and hydrangea set in silver, candlelight sparkled on the fine china, crystal and silverware. The walls had been bathed in soft pink lights highlighting portrait-sized photographs of local breast cancer survivors who would be in attendance tonight.

The _First Annual Emily's In the Pink Ball_ would be in full swing in just about an hour. She was early and just couldn't resist a peek at the ballroom. As she opened the door she was struck by the sheer beauty of it, the room was magnificent. But what made Elizabeth breathless was the jean-clad man standing right in the middle of the dance floor – the man of her dreams. Then reality crashed in – she closed the door even as her breath caught in her throat, just a little.

It was time for her to meet Monica in the suite that had been arranged for the evening. She still couldn't believe how kind Monica had been to her the past year. The mother of the man she loved, but wouldn't have, treated her better than her own mother. Oh, God, I miss Em . . . it would be so good to talk to her. And I miss Jason, Good God . . . sometimes I'm such an idiot. Reprimanding herself and quashing those feelings, she concentrated on mentally rehearsing her speech for tonight. As she was about to knock – the door was flung open by Alice, the Quartermaine maid-extraordinaire.

"Miss Elizabeth! It's about time you got here . . . Dr. Monica was just sending me to look for you!" She exclaimed, pulling Elizabeth into the room.

Monica and Nadine were already there with their hair and make-up done, the woman from Wyndam's Salon was waiting on her.

"I'm so sorry to be late," she gushed, "I was called into the hospital today and I've been running behind all day."

"No matter . . . I'm Millicent Bellevedere . . . you need to get dressed in your undergarments and a robe, then I'll do your hair and make-up. Come . . . there's not much time," rushing Elizabeth into one of the adjoining bedrooms.

"Alice, be a dear, and bring Elizabeth's bag to her," Monica asked.

Nadine called out, "Elizabeth, do you need anything?"

"No, no . . . I'm fine . . . I'll be right out."

Within the hour the three women left the suite for the ballroom all suitably attired in wonderful gowns in different shades of pink. The ball was black-tie, of course, and it was requested that all the ladies wear pink.

_Emily's In the Pink Ball_ was an event that was not to be missed. Not only because it was for a worthy cause, but because it was being underwritten by a foundation established by one of the country's most powerful business men and, allegedly, reputed crime lord, Jason Morgan. The event was attended by anyone who was anyone, doctors abounded, lawyers, judges, one senator, two congressmen, the mayors of New York City, Buffalo and Rochester, and four state assemblymen were in attendance. There were many top tier players from commerce and industry from both here and abroad. It was going to be quite a party.

At the top of the stairs leading to the ballroom Monica, Nadine and Elizabeth were each met by their respective dates for the evening. Nikolas Cassadine was there to escort Nadine who was wearing a lovely strapless empire-style rose colored gown featuring a micro-pleated skirt with a silver beaded sweetheart neckline. Monica was wearing a beautiful Grecian-styled gown in a delicious deep pink. Her escort for the evening was Giuseppe 'JoeCats' Catapano, the head of the Morgan Invictus International Foundation and Jason's long-time attorney in Italy. He was here to help open tonight's festivities. Escorting Elizabeth was her brother, Stephen Webber. He had come in specifically to escort her to this event. She was wearing a strapless form fitting gown of soft pink featuring a sweetheart neckline with delicate beading.

Entering the ballroom the guests were bathed in the warm pink glow of the lights and, although the event was to combat a serious illness, the atmosphere was life-affirming. As the guests entered it was a veritable fashion show of beautiful women in gorgeous gowns all in shades of pink.

Carly Jacks entered on the arm of Jasper 'Jax' Jacks, wearing a lovely strapless form fitting gown featuring a modern large scale print of stylized roses. Diane Miller, Jason's attorney, on the arm of Max Giambetti, was magnificently decked out in a hot pink gown beaded with a floral design and a bead encrusted halter neckline, followed by Alexis Davis, Cassadine family attorney, wearing a lovely pink confection accented with a beaded neckline and shoulders, Maxie Jones on the arm of Damian Spinelli, Jason's tech guru, was fetching in a lovely pale pink gown featuring a ruffled bustier with a unique sheer print over the fitted skirt. And so many other lovely women paraded through the doors on the arms of their handsome tuxedo-clad escorts as the band played a lively mix of popular music.

Throughout the cocktail hour she looked for him, but he was yet to make an appearance at the event his foundation was sponsoring. Jason eschewed most public displays but she thought for sure, for Emily, he would be here tonight. At the end of the cocktail hour, the guests were invited to take their seats for dinner.

As the guests seated themselves, Monica advanced to the podium on stage. Gently tapping the side of her glass with a spoon, the hundreds of guests quieted down in short order.

"Ladies and Gentleman . . . May I, please, have your attention for a moment."

As the guests turned their eyes toward the stage, she continued.

"Good Evening, I am Monica Quartermaine. Emily was my daughter. Your presence here, tonight, is greatly appreciated. It is with great pleasure that I welcome you to the very first _Emily's In the Pink Ball for Breast Cancer Research_. So many of you knew my daughter and I know that she is greatly missed."

She waited for the applause to quiet.

"As a med student it was her goal to do what she could to find better treatments for cancer patients as a doctor. The proceeds from this event will go a long way in providing the much needed research and treatment dollars to continue the fight for a cure in Emily's name. Thank you all so much for coming tonight. Please, enjoy your dinner."

As she descended the steps from the stage she was met by her escort for the evening, Giuseppe 'JoeCats' Catapano.

Right after the appetizer of Goat Cheese filled Phyllo Sachets on a surround of Micro-greens dressed with a Pomegranate and Champagne Reduction, Nik called for a toast to Emily. At the conclusion of dinner, Elizabeth joined Monica and JoeCats on stage to do her presentation honoring the event and Emily.

Monica, again, stepped up to the podium, "Ladies and Gentleman . . . May I have your attention, once again, please."

And again, as hundreds of guests quieted down and turned their eyes toward the stage, she continued.

"Please let me introduce to you, Mr. Giuseppe Catapano, the Head of the Morgan Invictus International Foundation, the host of this evening's event."

Giuseppe took his place at the podium as Monica stepped to the side. "I promised my boss I would keep my remarks short and to the point." The guests obliged him with some light laughter, and he continued, "I will to my best to be short and may succeed, because the story I have to tell is quite uncomplicated and simple, unlike the man who made what I am about to tell you happen."

Again, the audience obliged with laughter.

"Almost ten years ago a young man came to my offices in Arezzo and asked for my help in establishing a charitable foundation. He wanted it to fund medical research and horticultural research as well as underwrite scholarships and foundations that supported children. For me, it was an unusual request, especially from someone so young. The man was, perhaps, only 28. Normally, this type of request came from old men who had spent their lives making money and now had decided to use it to do good works in their retirement. This young man told me, quite simply, that he did not need all the money he had and could I help him make it do good things for those who couldn't. How could I refuse such a request?"

He continued, "I didn't know, then, what an adventure I would have in fulfilling this man's quest. After several weeks spent planning and establishing the various funds the young man left it in my care. He did not want to be personally associated with the endeavors, for what were personal reasons, but he assured me that he would keep in touch every few months and that I had the freedom to use the money in the best ways possible. Three years later, he came to see me in person again. His 22-year-old sister, who he loved dearly, was waging a fierce fight against breast cancer. He told me he had done some research and learned that for young women the disease, in most cases, was particularly aggressive. He also learned how many women in the world went without treatment because they lacked money or insurance. This led to the establishment of _'My Sister's Place'_ throughout Europe and South America. Please, take a look at this very short presentation . . ."

A very short film played detailing the formation of _'My Sister's Place'_ and the work that it encompasses both clinically and emotionally.

As the lights came back up, Elizabeth Webber stepped up to the podium. "Good Evening, everyone. Most of you know me, but I am not here to talk to you about Elizabeth Webber. I am here to talk to you about my best friend, my sister, my partner in crime, so to speak, Emily Bowen Quartermaine Cassadine. Now, that's quite a name and Emily represented each facet from the simple 'Bowens' to the highly complex 'Quartermaines' to the international 'Cassadines' . . . but tonight I want to talk to you about the woman who to all her friends was just simply 'Emily'. She was one of the first people I met when I came to Port Charles at fifteen. I was estranged from my family, had been kicked out of school and was living with my grandmother, and knew no one. Emily didn't care about any of that. She told me the craziness of my family didn't even come close to the craziness of hers and she and I became fast friends."

The guests indulged in a bit of laughter at the universally known craziness of the Quartermaines.

"She was my best friend until the day she died and there is rarely a day that goes by when I do not think of her. But I was not the only beneficiary of Em's friendship. She had the capacity to gather friends wherever she went. Her rare gift was that she wanted to be your friend and help you in whatever way she could."

She waited, again, for the applause to quiet.

"She had a particularly special friendship with her brother, Jason, to whom she was a friend when no one else would be or could be. He was, as she always said, the best big brother a girl could have, he was her rock, her shelter, her hero. And she was always there for him, no matter what. It is particularly fitting that, now, his foundation has established the first US based _'My Sister's Place'_ here in Port Charles, right on Elm Street, across from the park where he and his sister spent many happy times."

She waited for the applause to wind down.

"The _'My Sister's Place'_ clinics and recovery homes are a fitting tribute to Emily . . . she will get to be a friend and lend a helping hand to young women across the country and the world as they fight the ravages of breast cancer. It is a fitting gift that this opportunity comes from her beloved brother. Thank you."

Giuseppe stepped up to the podium amidst the applause for Elizabeth's speech, "Thank you all for your kind attention. Please enjoy the rest of this lovely evening. And, please, join us on the dance floor." As he stepped away from the podium, the band began to play _The Emperor's Waltz_. He escorted both Elizabeth and Monica to the stairs leading to the dance floor. As Monica descended the steps her attention was caught by a small collective gasp from the other guests. Looking up, she saw her son, the benefactor of the evening dashingly attired in a classic black tux – no tie – striding toward the stairs just in time to take her hand and lead her out to the dance floor.

"Jason, I didn't think you were going to come," his Mother whispered.

"I promised you I would be here," he said simply. And he encircled her in his arms and led her unfalteringly around the floor in a classic waltz. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that his friend, JoeCats, was accompanying Elizabeth onto the dance floor.

Elizabeth could barely hide her surprise at seeing Jason on the dance floor with his Mother. He was the last person she had expected to see tonight. Jason hated parties – especially when you had to dress up – he hated parties. I should have known he would be here, of course he would be here for his Mom, for Emily, for his own foundation – no he wouldn't care about that – he came for Em.

"Ms. Webber, you dance beautifully," JoeCats was saying.

"Oh, Mr. Catapano, you are a wonderful dancing partner. Your presentation was lovely," she tried to concentrate on saying something intelligent and to not think about Jason.

"Please, you must call me, Joe or JoeCats, Ms. Webber."

"And, you must call me, Elizabeth. Why are you called JoeCats?" Don't look at him – don't watch him dancing with his Mother . . .

"Jason, gave me the name. Joe is Giuseppe in Italian and the 'Cats' is short for my name and I have two lovely cats in my office in Arezzo . . ."

And then all of a sudden she saw Mr. Ca – Joe moving over to Monica and Jason, before she could think she found herself being passed into Jason's waiting arms as he relinquished his Mother to his friend.

She couldn't focus . . . she was in his arms . . . she hadn't been in his arms in so long . . . was the room spinning or was it just the dancing, she wondered. He felt her stiffen slightly and he wanted to make this as painless as possible for her, "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I didn't know Joe was going to switch partners . . . It will just be for a few minutes."

He's apologizing to me . . . because he's dancing with me . . . he has no idea how many times I've dreamed of dancing with him.

"Elizabeth? It's almost over . . ."

Several other couples made their way to the dance floor, including Nik and Nadine, Carly and Jax, Diane and Max, Maxi and Spinelli, Ned and his wife, Skye and her husband, to name a few.

She heard his voice, but it sounded like it was coming through thick cotton . . . she was afraid to look at him . . . she did and found his impossible blue eyes looking at her with the softest gaze.

He glided her effortlessly around the dance floor – it was a dream come true for her and it ended far too soon. After what seemed mere moments she felt him escorting her to her table.

"Thank you, Elizabeth. Thank you for the dance and for what you said about Em. I appreciate what you said and I know that Em would as well." He backed away with the slightest bow and before she could look up he was gone.

Jason moved away from Elizabeth and walked towards his Mother's table. He motioned to the guards he brought with him to stay back. Unlike his predecessor, Sonny, Jason did not enter the event with the fanfare that the former mob boss employed. Jason entered as unobtrusively as possible. His guards were there, people knew they were there, but they were as seamlessly part of the scenery as the flowers and the tablecloths.

As he approached Monica's table he stopped to say hello to a number of business associates and friends, Nik and Nadine, Ned and his new wife Madeleine, Skye who had married the head of Jason's South American holdings, Antonio De Orellana, had come in from Argentina. He also stopped to say hello to Bernie and his wife, Miriam and their niece, Hannah.

He said hello to Alexis and her date, as well as Sam and her partner. Then he stopped at Spinelli's table – Maxie looked great and Spin was beaming. Max could not take his eyes off Diane who was wearing a dress even he would notice. He finally reached his Mother's table and found that she was with his friend JoeCats for the evening, Epiphany was there with François Toussaint, and Patrick and Robin.

"Jason, it was so nice that you came," his Mother reached out to him and without preamble pulled him into a slight embrace.

"Monica . . . Mom . . . thank you so much for tonight. I'm very grateful for everything you've done."

"Oh, Jason . . . it was such a pleasure to do this for Emily and for you and for everyone who will benefit from this wonderful project." She looked him directly in the eye, "You are responsible for this wonderful gift to your sister and all these other women . . . you."

He sheepishly waved off her tribute, and instead turned to the rest of the table and said hello to Robin and Patrick and to Epiphany and Toussaint.

"I never knew I was washing the floors of General Hospital with one of the wealthiest men in the city . . . hell, on three continents," Toussaint held out his hand to Jason, while the rest of the table indulged in a bit of a chuckle.

"Toussaint . . . it's good to see you, man," Jason readily accepted his hand. "You're well?"

"Oh, yes, I'm very well! And, with this beautiful woman at my side . . . how could I be otherwise?" Toussaint took Epiphany's hand in his.

"Ms. Johnson, it's nice to see you outside of GH," Jason remarked.

"It's nice to see you, too, Mr. Morgan, all nicely cleaned up," she chuckled.

"Hey, Jase . . ." Robin started when Carly swooped up to Jason and grabbed his arm and steered him toward the promenade that encircled the room.

"Jason, I've been looking for you all night," she gushed, "I kept watching the door and waiting. What took you so long? I didn't think you'd ever get here . . ."

"Carly!"

". . . and I have to talk to you." She was pacing, "I left you, I don't know, so many . . ."

"Carly!" She wasn't hearing him, so he decided to just let her go on rambling. She would eventually run out of steam, she always did. He leaned back against one of the columns with his hands in his pockets and waited.

". . . ages, at least ten messages maybe more . . . I knew you would get here eventually, because . . . you just would . . . you would do it for Monica and for Emily . . . But, then the cocktail hour finished . . . and I looked for you during dinner . . . and a couple of times I thought it would be you every time the door opened . . . but you still weren't here . . ." and suddenly she stopped and looked at him . . . oh God, he is devastating lounging there against that pillar laughing at me in that quiet way he does . . . and she gave him a playful smack on the upper arm.

"Jason . . . stop laughing at me!"

"Carly," he said slowly as he pushed away from the column. Taking her by the elbow he led her to one of the small sofas positioned around the promenade, "I'm here now. What do you want to tell me?"

"I went to visit Michael today," she said calmly.

"Okay."

"And everything was the same."

"Okay."

"But when I was leaving one of the nurses told me that one of Michael's doctors wanted to talk to me," she rushed on nervously.

He slipped his hand under hers and stroked the back of her hand soothingly with his thumb, "And?"

"The doctor isn't sure what it means yet," she covered his hand with her free one, "but he says that Michael is showing some different brain activity . . . different than he has before. That's good news, right, Jase?

_A warrior who could kill with speed and accuracy should be able to dance with the same grace with which he fought. ~ Anonymous_

Here at the pictures of the gowns can't be seen, but you can see them at my website, The No Name, the address is in my profile.

____________________________________________________________

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of ABC, Inc. and The Disney Corporation.

No copyright infringement intended. Character's identities are merely borrowed for fun.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: To all of you who left kudos and such lovely responses to Chapter 2, please accept my heartfelt Thanks! And thanks, again, to Sterryvit for being a helpful sounding board.

This chapter has some surprises, but I promise more with Michael is coming up. Hang in there and I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Let me know what you think – I love to read your comments. Thanks for reading, ~~ Lisa

"_**Come what may, all bad fortune is to be conquered by endurance." ~ Virgil**_

**October 20, 2010**

**11:00 am** (84 hours after leaving the ball)

**Private Island off Coastal Maine**

_. . . . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . _

It was the only sound she heard as she watched the unconscious man laying so still in the hospital bed. He had been unconscious for three and a half days.

_p. . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . _

But for the past day and a half he had been a bit restless, fighting for consciousness or fighting memories, she couldn't tell which – fighting his way back, she hoped. It had been such a wonderful night, the night of Emily's In the Pink Ball. Although he wanted to have the ball to honor his sister, he never liked to attend those sorts of functions. She never should have pressured him. If she hadn't, he might not be here fighting for his life.

Every time she saw him laying in a hospital bed her heart constricted in fear – a fear that she would lose her son, again, as she had that December fourteen years ago.

She feared losing him to a bullet as she almost did this time. She knew as a doctor that he would recover from this wound as he had done so many others before, but as a Mother it was so difficult to reconcile her fear. And, now she understood why he worked so hard to keep her at arms length.

_ip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . _

**Four Days Earlier**

**12:00 Midnight**

**The Cosmopolitan Hotel**

**Port Charles, NY**

Leaving the ballroom his guards seamlessly fell in on either side of him and behind him. His detail was made up of the best. He had trained each of them personally for Sonny's detail. He already knew that the guys sensed his distraction.

The drivers were outside the two waiting black Cadillac Escalades, his cars were never left unattended.

Tommy started to open the door, "Tommy, I'm going to walk for a while."

"Yes, sir."

As he started to walk away, he heard Enzo, "Danny, Phil, Iggy with Jason . . . go." And he heard the guys fall in behind him at a distance far enough away to not crowd him and close enough to be on him in seconds if needed.

"Tommy, you'll follow Mr. Morgan with the car at a discrete distance," Enzo continued. And he ran to catch up with Jason.

Jason felt Enzo fall in only two steps behind. As much as he wanted to be alone, it was also oddly comforting to know that he wasn't right now. He met Enzo in Italy years ago when he had to leave Port Charles. When he decided to come home, Enzo came with him – he has been a loyal friend and guard to him for more than eight years. He never liked working on Sonny's detail and Jason knew that, but he had stayed for him. When he took over from Sonny, Jason was able to move Enzo into his current and well deserved position.

'_I could ride all night tonight – I'd give anything for an all-night speed-driven ride. For the wind to drown out everything on my mind – for a few hours. I think it's the thing I miss most, since taking over the organization._

_Ah, hell, riding tonight would probably not be a good idea – it would just make me think of Elizabeth more. Riding always did – it was impossible not to still feel her arms around me or hear her voice screaming in my ear, 'Faster, Jason, faster.' It's been years since we were on a bike together and I can still feel her and hear her. _

_She looked so beautiful tonight – and oh, God – dancing with her. She felt like a dream in my arms. It's been two years since I held her – more than two years. _

_It felt so good, so right – but it wasn't. It couldn't be. _

_But, tonight she fit in my arms like she had never left – it was the best two minutes I'd had in a long time.'_

He stopped, suddenly. They were at the lower end of the warehouse district, he turned to Enzo, "What do we know?"

"Greg and Jim are on Sonny . . . he hasn't left the compound. Tad and Paul are watching the Webber house . . . it's quiet. Chico and Milo haven't turned up anything on the shooter . . . Bernie's checking out some leads . . . all your guys are clean."

He nodded his understanding and continued walking. He stayed away from all his usual haunts, the Bridge, Vista Pointe, the Quartermaine Lake, the cliff roads. He even varied his route along the docks.

After walking for about forty-five minutes, he called over his shoulder. "Enzo?"

Enzo closed the gap to Jason in two strides, "Yeah?"

"I'm going to go to Emily . . . you can send the guys home."

"Jason . . . if you're walking, we're walking, if you're going to Emily, we're going to Emily." Seeing Jason's tortured look, he continued, "I know, I know . . . it's one o'clock in the morning, the guys are tired, you don't want them to get hurt, blah, blah, blah." Enzo knew that not too many people could talk to his boss this way, but he could and did. His boss looked out for everyone else before himself – it was his duty to look out for Jason first.

"It's their job, Jason. Just like once upon a time it was your job, and there is a significant threat to you . . . there's a shooter in Port Charles right now with your picture in his pocket and a list of your habits. Get it?"

"I got it, Enzo. Thank you." He nodded and continued walking toward the Quartermaine estate and the family crypt. It was quite a distance on foot, from the lower warehouse district, but at a steady pace he was there in about an hour.

He rarely came here, he wasn't one to commune with the dead, but it seemed appropriate to visit her tonight. As he approached the crypt, instinctively he knew his guards had stepped back to give him as much privacy as possible.

He looked at all the names of his family that were gone, AJ, Grandmother, Alan, and Em. He ran his fingertips over her name, Emily – Bowen – Quartermaine. Stretching out his arm he pressed his hand onto the plaque, "Hey, Em, bet you never thought you'd see me here again." He bowed his head as he leaned into the plaque – he could feel the bite of the raised letters into his palm. "I miss you so much. Monica . . . Mom, misses you and . . . the old man. The foundation is opening a 'My Sister's Place' here in Port Charles, on Elm Street. I can hear you now, 'Well it's about time, Jase . . . what were you waiting for.' The foundation gave a ball in your name tonight . . . I think it was okay, I don't know much about this stuff. You should have heard the old man . . . comes up to me . . .

"_This is a good thing you've done, my boy." Clapping Jason on the shoulder, "I always knew you were smarter than that thug, Corinthos." _

"_Thank you, Edward."_

"_You're finally making something of yourself now, Jason? Hmm? You've finally had enough of that foolishness with Corinthos? Hmm? I don't know what Lila ever saw in him."_

_Ned swooped in, "Grandfather, leave him alone. Don't you know that you're talking to one of the most powerful men in Port Charles?" _

"_Ohh!" Edward exclaimed moving off as Monica tugged at his arm, "Dance with me, Edward."_

"_Thanks, Ned." Jason said gratefully._

"_It's good to see you, here, Jase." _

"You should have seen Elizabeth tonight, Em. She looked so beautiful. She gave a wonderful speech about you and the clinics. Oh, God, I miss her so much, Em . . ." his hand slid down the wall of the crypt as he sank to his knees.

"And I miss Jake. He's three now . . . and I've missed so much of his little life. I saw him and Elizabeth and Cam in the park the other day . . . playing in the leaves . . . I think about them all the time, Em . . . I can hear you telling me to go to her, 'she needs you, Jase' . . . she wanted to protect Lucky more . . . I made sure she and the boys are taken care of . . . I've tried to make things safe here and with me, but . . . she's afraid, Em . . ."

"I danced with her tonight . . . it wasn't planned, but Em, she got so stiff in my arms . . . I could feel her. . . I don't know . . . disgust? It was only a few minutes . . . and then it was over . . . but I can still feel her . . . it felt so good to hold her . . ." he stopped talking and just tried to feel Emily, tried to find some peace. He could feel the silence around him, and suddenly he realized it was too quiet.

Jumping to his feet, he turned towards the wooded area to his right. He felt a burning sensation pierce his right side, and heard Enzo yell out, "Jason! Get down!"

In mere seconds, Enzo was pushing him to the ground and the other guards were fanning out around the crypt calling for additional men. "There's a shooter, heading through the woods to the lake . . ."

Jason felt Enzo lift off him, getting up he asked, "Enzo, the men? Is anybody hit? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Jason, I'm fine." He called out, "Is anybody hit?" Through his comm link he asked the same question. He turned back to Jason, "Nobody's hit, everyone is okay, Danny's got the shooter." Jason slid down the door of the crypt. "Jason?" Enzo lifted away Jason's jacket.

Everything started to go dark as Jason heard Enzo, "You're hit . . . Jason!" Shouting through his comm link, "Tommy get in here, Jason's hit . . . he's hit! Get in here, now!"

Whipping off his jacket, he tried to staunch the blood that was pooling around Jason, "Oh, God . . . Iggy . . . I need help!"

. . . bip . . . . bip . . bip . . . . bip . . bip . . . . bip . . bip . . . . bip . . bip . . . . bip . . bip . . . . bip . . . . bip . . bip . . . . bip . . bip

"Faster, Jason, faster" she screamed from behind him . . . "Jason, look at the stars . . . they look so close!" I looked up . . . I just wanted to look at her . . .

"You don't have to be here. We can go anywhere" . . . "With you?" . . . "Yeah, or not . . . if we get where we're going, Italy or wherever . . . if you decide you can't stand me . . ."

**October 17, 2010**

**2:20 am** (2 hours and 20 minutes after leaving the ball)

**The Quartermaine Crypt**

**Port Charles, NY**

"Tommy, open the back and get the Doc on the phone! Tell him we have an emergency . . . tell him it's Jason and tell him it's bad. Ok . . . Iggy . . . take his legs . . . let's try to keep him as straight as we can."

He and Iggy lifted Jason into the back of the SUV and Enzo climbed in and kept as much pressure on the wound as he could.

Tommy started to peel away from the Quartermaine grounds, as Iggy got in the passenger side, "Slow down," he said, "the last thing we need is to get stopped by a cop for speeding . . . okay?" Tommy nodded and adjusted his speed.

It would take about fifteen to twenty minutes to get to the safehouse Jason had set up for medical emergencies and they didn't have a moment to waste.

"Enzo, you want me to call the pilots?" Iggy asked.

"Yeah, tell them to be ready to go ASAP. And call the Beauforts at the Maine Island house and tell them we're on our way and to get the clinic operating."

As they pulled into the back of the safehouse the Doc met them at the back door with a stretcher and helped Iggy move Jason onto it and into the house. The house was mostly a residence, but it had two very large window-less rooms at the back. One room was a fully equipped state-of-the-art operating room and the other was a recovery room.

"Doc! It's bad, he bled a lot." Enzo explained as he walked beside the stretcher. "He was shot with a rifle, at fairly close range." He explained, knowing that the more info Doc had the more prepared he would be to help Jason.

"Okay, Enzo, I need you to step back . . . which one of the guys with you is the EMT?"

"Tommy!" Enzo yelled, "Doc needs you!"

As Tommy and Pamela took Jason into the operating room and closed the door, Doc said, "I'm going to scrub up and get him stabilized. We'll leave for Maine as soon as the plane is ready . . . let me know, okay?"

In the next two hours, Doc worked to stabilize Jason and do some preliminary surgery to clean and close Jason's wound. Enzo sent a cleaning crew to the Quartermaine crypt, informed Bernie and then Spinelli of the shooting. It was up to the three of them to decide if Jason's Mother should be informed or not. Enzo decided to wait to hear a prognosis from Doc first. After this was done, he cleaned Jason's blood from his hands.

The house was the residence of Dr. David 'Doc' Samuels and his wife, Pamela, a registered nurse. Doc was another of Jason's friends met under unique circumstances. Jason helped the couple get out of a war-torn area of Africa about ten years ago and they settled in Germany for a while. When Doc wanted to come to the states, he wasn't keen to continue practicing medicine. He did, however, agree to become Jason's personal physician after Jason took over from Sonny. Doc was kept quite busy during the war with Karpov and then with the Zaccharas and the other Five Families. At some point he has probably patched-up every one of Jason's soldiers. And he's patched-up Jason more than a few times.

Jason was shot at about 2:10 am, by 5:45 am he had been through his first surgery and was on his way to his private island for the second surgery and recovery.

The plane landed on the 60-acre island's air strip, at 7:15 am. Leonard Beaufort, the island's caretaker, met them with what could only be called a private ambulance. Within twenty-five minutes, Doc had Jason in his second surgery that night. Augustina Beaufort, a retired nurse, joined Pamela in the operating room along with Tommy.

Enzo, Iggy and Danny, took the opportunity to get cleaned up before conducting any additional business.

After more than four hours of surgery, Jason was in the recovery room receiving IV fluids and antibiotics as well as pain medication – it was 12:35 in the afternoon.

As Doc came through the doors, Enzo, Iggy and Danny were waiting.

"Doc?" Enzo asked. "Is he . . ."

"He's resting, now. It was bad. I know you've been waiting a long time. I'm sorry I couldn't talk to you on the plane . . ."

"No, no Doc, Jason needed you," Danny exclaimed.

"The bullet was a hollow tip, you know that on impact it explodes to cause maximum damage. Let me put it this way, from what you told me, if Jason hadn't stood up when he did, he'd be dead. If the bullet had gone in at a slightly different angle it would have eviscerated him, as it is the bullet damaged his large intestine, a small part of the stomach and nicked his liver. And, I had to remove his spleen. He's lucky you got him to me so quickly."

"Actually, Doc," Enzo said, "we're lucky Jason is that good that he realized something was wrong, I swear to God, he smelled the shooter. He was kneeling and then jumped up and turned in the direction of the shooter . . . he turned into the shot!"

Doc was nodding, "It wouldn't surprise me at all if Jason did smell him or heard something. I remember in Africa, it was unbelievable to watch him work . . . he has a sixth sense, a finely honed instinct. And it's kept him and many others, including me and Pamela, alive."

"I know." Enzo said. And then asked, "Doc . . . how long will he be out?"

Doc knew he wasn't talking about how long before Jason resumed consciousness, he was asking how long Jason would be out of commission. Any length of time left his organization vulnerable.

"Be prepared for at least two weeks and possibly longer. But first he has to wake up, he lost a lot of blood and I lost him once on the table."

_____________________________________________________________

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of ABC, Inc. and The Disney Corporation.

No copyright infringement intended. Character's identities are merely borrowed for fun.


	4. Chapter 4

"_**Come what may, all bad fortune is to be conquered by endurance." ~ Virgil**_

_. . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . _

**October 20, 2010  
1:45 pm **(86+ hours after the ball)

**Wind Island House Wind Island**  
Jason Morgan's Private Island off Coastal Maine

**Jason's Recovery Room**

She could sit beside him this time because he was unconscious and couldn't shy away from her or push her away or walk away. She just wanted to be with him – to help him, finally, in any way she could.

"Oh, Jason, how did this happen? You've worked so hard and sacrificed so much to make the city and yourself safe. I know you wouldn't want me here, but this is where your mother should be. I can't lose you now . . . it's selfish, I know. Not without you knowing how sorry I am for every negative remark I've ever made, for every hurt I've ever given to you. I love you . . . I so want you to know that . . . I want your son to know you and for you to know him."

She reached out and stroked his left hand gently – it was as much for her as it was for him. "I know you have this idea that you are not a good man, but you are and you have been a good son. A better son than I deserved. You have forgiven me for more hurts than any son should have to forgive a mother."

He watched his boss's Mother sitting vigil by a son she didn't know as well as she should. Jason went to great lengths to protect her and everyone he cared about from just these circumstances.

_. . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . _

As he came into the room, he cleared his throat to give her a bit of warning, "Dr. Quartermaine, please excuse me. I need to examine Jason."

She looked up, barely startled, "Oh, Dr. Samuels, of course. I was just thinking about Jason. You know, he's really the only family I have left."

She got up from her chair, but lingered by Jason, softly stroking his left hand. "You know, I was just thinking about how strong he is, physically, but I never knew until now just how much his body has endured. Maybe I needed to see all these healed over bullet holes and knife wounds to understand just who my son really is and not just the façade he shows me. Some of these scars I know, others I don't. These burn scars. Do you know how he got them?"

"He told me he got them when he pulled his boss from a burning warehouse. He said it was a long time ago. Some of the others he got in Italy and Africa."

She nodded, "I remember the warehouse. February 2002 – we didn't even know he was back in town until the next day when he came to see his Grandmother."

"He talked often about his Grandmother. He loved her very much," Dr. Samuels responded.

"Do you know how he got the scars I saw on his back?" Dr. Samuels looked at her in distress. "I saw them when your wife changed his dressing. They look like marks I've seen in pictures of torture victims. When was my son tortured?"

"Dr. Quartermaine, I am sure you understand . . . I really can't . . ."

"I do understand, but it just feels wrong for a mother not to know these things about her son. That as a _doctor _I don't know these things about my son."

Her eyes wandered over the strongly muscled man lying in the bed still fighting to recover from the bullet that ripped through his abdomen. She tried to reconcile the man before her with the boy who had become this man.

"Dr. Quartermaine, with due respect, I don't think you have any idea how truly strong Jason is, physically, yes, but also mentally and emotionally."

"I have seen him, myself, when he was helping me and my wife get out of a very volatile part of Africa, fight the way I have seen no man fight before. Fight tired, fight after enduring days without real food and little water, fight while bleeding from stab wounds to the thighs and shoulder, cuts to his face and hands. His tolerance for doing without and for pain is legendary amongst his guards. Some, who know him, call him a machine, and in the past some have treated him as such."

"Corinthos," she said her voice hiding none of her disdain or contempt.

"Jason has been schooled to see his value only in his service to another. But, be assured, your son is an expert tactician and strategist. He is skilled and lethal with weaponry of all kinds and in surviving with what ever is at hand. He has the heart, mind and will of a warrior. If he has faith in the rightness of his actions for you, then nothing will stop him, if that same faith is proven false then nothing can force his action. Jason is, Dr. Quartermaine, a warrior in the best sense."

He watched as the mother of one of the best men he knew looked at her son with new eyes.

"He has men who work for him who would walk into the very fires of hell without hesitation. They are loyal to him . . . they honor him, they respect him. Theirs is a respect not borne out of fear, but because he is an honorable leader who asks nothing of them that he is unwilling to do himself and he respects them in return."

"You know, I blamed him for his sister's death. And for Alan's, his father. I told him he was no longer my son and threw him out of my house. He didn't say anything. I said terrible things to him. I accused him of only being a killer, of never doing anything good. I told him he was no good fourteen years ago and then I did it again twelve years later."

"I know," he said, "Jason accepted your words as small punishment. He blames himself for Emily as he does for so many things that were and are beyond his control."

"You know," she looked at her son and then at his doctor, "when I needed him, when I crawled into a bottle to swallow my grief and then hurt someone in a drunken haze, he came to me in the hospital. No recriminations, he just wanted to help me. You know, he always comes to me, no matter what."

"But you and he are rebuilding, and that's good. I know he wants that, but he wants to protect you, too. You know he loves you, don't you?"

As Dr. Samuels examined him I stepped away from my son's bed and thought about this man, my son. And, although he was the mob king of Port Charles and feared on two continents, he still needed his mother, maybe now more than ever. Because now I also know of Jason's emotional scars, the scars no one could see, the scars only he knew about.

He had lost so much, given up so much and was, in many ways, more alone than any person should be and he least of all. That was going to change.

**October 19, 2010  
1:00 pm** (62 hours after the ball)

**The Jace Building – Port Charles, NY**

Sonny entered the building with his usual swagger, followed by one of his new guards. He was quickly stopped by one of the building's guards.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Yeah, I'm here to see Bernie . . . I'll just go right up, he's on the . . . what floor is he on, again?"

"Is Mr. Abrams expecting you, sir?"

"Do you know who I am?" He was starting to get annoyed. "Do you think you have the right to question me? YOU tell _Bernie_ that Mr. Corinthos is here to see him, now."

"Is Mr. Abrams expecting you, sir? Mr. Abrams has a very busy schedule today. I can call and see if he has time to see you today, or you can speak to his assistant and make an appointment."

"Who do you think you are? I don't make appointments . . . you get Bernie on the phone . . ."

The guard had called for his supervisor and Francis Donovan came over to see what was going on.

"Francis, tell this idiot who I am!" Sonny ordered.

"Mr. Corinthos, it's nice to see you. Mr. Morgan is out of town. Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

"Mr. Morgan is out of town, eh? And, Bernie is too busy to see me?!" Shaking his head in disbelief. "We'll just see about this!" And turning on his heel he left the building.

Francis spoke into his comm link, "Make sure you stay on Corinthos, I want to know everywhere he goes and who he sees."

**October 20, 2010  
2:15 pm **(87+ hours after the ball)

**General Hospital – Port Charles, NY**

"Hey, Robin . . . how are you? I haven't seen you since Emily's Ball!"

"Yeah, I know. Patrick's been away at a conference and Emma's been sick. It was a great party , though. You know, Patrick told me that the event raised over $7 million?"

"Wow . . . I had no idea. I knew the tables were really expensive . . . but, just tables couldn't bring in that kind of money . . . that's fantastic!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"Yeah, Monica told me that Jason covered, well the foundation, covered all the expenses and that Jason personally matched the funds raised as did Jax, Ned and Mr. Quartermaine." She noticed how Elizabeth looked when she mentioned Jason. "And speaking of Jason, you two looked awfully good out there on that dance floor," she sing-songed.

"Oh, please . . . I was totally caught off guard and so was Jason. Robin, he apologized to me . . . he kept telling me that it would be over in just a few minutes . . ."

"I don't know what you saw, but everybody else saw how he looked at you. He looked at you like you were the only person in the room . . . I don't remember Jason ever looking at me like that . . ."

"Oh, Robin . . . really . . . it's not that way at all. We're just old friends."

"Yeah, well let me tell you . . . I don't know what you're thinking, but I was watching two people who cared about each other very much and so was everybody else . . . in fact, some would even say we we're looking at two people in love."

"You don't . . ." Elizabeth started to protest.

"Nurse Webber . . . Dr. Scorpio . . . you're needed in Emergency, there's an MVA coming in . . ."

**October 20, 2010  
6:15 pm **(91+ hours after the ball)

**Wind Island House, Maine  
Jason's Recovery Room**

_bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . b_

_. . . Jason! Jason! Oh, God, get up . . . you smell like snow . . . this baby is not Lucky's . . . he's yours . . . I have my trusty artist's knife . . . Dance with me . . . I heard Ric say he is tapping your apartment . . . you're not just Em's big brother anymore . . . just a piece of glass . . . what a beautiful red . . . least Michael is here . . . you can still see him and you never know . . . to Cam, from Santa . . . where did you find it . . . how are you at paper chains . . . Uzbekistan it rains when you forget your umbrella . . . that you still wanted a postcard from me . . . no, its Ric - it should have been you . . . Lucky attacked me with the knife . . . you never lied to me before . . . don't you know what you mean to me . . . get that damn machine out of here . . . Grandmother, this is Michael . . . Jason, these peppermints are delicious . . . someone who feeds you gallons of soup . . . is more than a friend . . . . . . You have a lot of dreams . . . I hardly have any . . . you're who I want to be with . . . remember Carly screaming . . . _

_. . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bip . . . . . . bip . . . bi_

"Elizabeth . . . wait . . . don't . . . I . . . Elizabeth . . ."

Jason's eyes fluttered open – he heard the machinery keeping track of his every heartbeat.

"Welcome back, Jason," Dr. Samuels said, smiling. "You gave us quite a scare . . ." over his shoulder he said, "get Dr. Quartermaine." Turning back to Jason, "Now don't be mad . . . your Mother is here . . ."

He was interrupted as Monica came into the room and directly to the side of the bed; "Hey . . ." she smoothed her hand over his hair, and took his left hand in hers, "Welcome back, Jason." She smiled through the tears wetting her eyes as she tried to keep them from falling.

"You look tired," he whispered as he gently squeezed her hand.

"I'm not tired," she assured him. "Sleep, Jason, you need to rest." He started to drift off again, as he heard his Mother say, "Just sleep, now."

**October 20, 2010  
8:45 pm **(93+ hours after the ball)

**Wind Island House, Maine  
The Kitchen**

In the spacious and well equipped kitchen, Danny and Iggy were just getting another cup of coffee when Enzo came in. The island was secure and they could relax a bit, except for their concern for their boss.

"Hey, Enzo? Is he awake yet?" Danny asked as Enzo came through the door.

"No, he's still out," the concern evident in his voice. "Let's go over what we know." He grabbed a steaming cup and sat at the table. "I'm going to have to get back to Port Charles soon. What have you got for me on the shooter?"

"Okay, Phil and Tad have the shooter at one of the safehouses in The Keys. So far, he hasn't given up any info and chances are he won't . . . unless we step up the interrogation."

"Do that. You may have to go down there and do it yourself." Enzo told his second. Next to him, Danny was the most ruthless interrogator they had and he had been trained by Jason in the best ways to get real information from an informant.

"Not a problem. I'd like to stay here, but we need the information more. I can leave as soon as the plane is ready."

Iggy asked, getting his third cup of coffee, "Do you have any idea, Enzo, who could have hired him?

"Not yet," he answered. "Iggy? Did Spinelli get anything on him or his aliases?"

"Spinelli got some banking information and he got a hit on a recent payment of $2 million, but both accounts originate in the Cayman's . . . he's doing some additional checking with his FBI contact."

"Okay, good."

"You know, Enzo," Iggy said, "Spin raised an interesting theory, and other than you, he knows Jason better than the rest of us. He said, that Jason always told him that when Sonny was really stressed he would go to his first wife's grave and talk to her. Spin suggested that, one of the only, maybe THE only person that would have thought to look for Jason at Emily's tomb would be Sonny."

"Really?" Enzo said. "You know, Sonny's been threatening Jason for weeks. This stands some looking into . . . it caught me off guard when Jason said he wanted to go to the Q crypt . . . I've only been there once before with him. It _was_ unusual."

"I'm going to go check with Doc. Iggy, give Spin a call . . . ask him to check into Sonny's banking transactions. Let's see what he finds. Danny, call me when you get to the safehouse."

As Enzo turned to leave the kitchen, Monica came through the door, Iggy and Danny quickly got to their feet.

"Dr. Quartermaine, hello," Enzo said stepping back to the table.

"Enzo, how are you? Danny, Iggy, please sit down."

"Ma'am."

"Dr. Quartermaine, has there been any change?" Enzo asked, as the other men resumed their seats. "Can we get you something to drink, have you had anything to eat?"

"I'm fine, Enzo, really. I just wanted to tell you that Jason woke up briefly. His fever has not yet broken, and he is still in a state of unconsciousness. But, he seems very restless."

"Dr. Quartermaine, I know that Jason would never want me to tell you this, but I've seen him . . . we've seen him come back from as bad or worse than this in Italy, in Africa, in Columbia. Your son, ma'am, is very strong." Swallowing past the lump of guilt constricting his throat, he quietly said, "I'm so sorry, again, that I did not protect him better."

"I know, Enzo, I know," she said laying her hand on his arm. "Thank you. I know that Jason relies on you. I know that you, all of you, would have taken this bullet for Jason, and then your mothers would be here and my son would be beside himself."

"Ma'am, we're all praying for your son. He's very important to all of us," Danny said. "He's very strong, he'll pull through this . . . I know he will."

"Thanks, guys. You know, I think, I'll ask Mrs. Beaufort for some tea." Enzo gave Iggy a signal.

"Dr. Quartermaine, please, sit for a while," said Iggy, "I'll go talk to Mrs. Beaufort."

"Please excuse me, Dr. Quartermaine, I need to speak to Doc," Enzo said as he left.

**October 21, 2010  
1:05 am** (98 hours after the ball)

**Wind Island House, Maine  
Jason's Recovery Room**

_ip. . . . bip . . bip . . . . bip . . bip . . . . bip . . bip . . . . bip . . bip . . . . bip . . bip . . . . bip . . bi . . . . bip . . bip . . . . bip . . bip _

_. . . I screwed up tonight Michael . . . the Quartermaines . . . they think you're a thing . . . if Lucky finds out - he could go back to using . . . that night at Jake's . . . you ever think about it . . . Em, the baby needs a Godmother . . . what name do you give this child . . . you never gave up on me Jason, even when you wanted to . . . you were almost like a Dad . . . if you're getting dressed stop . . . I have a shirt . . . it's not blue . . . Sam, the baby - she didn't make it . . . I won't let you down . . . hiring you – smartest decision I every made . . . I need you to take care of Michael . . . this is a wonderful gift, Jason - I promise your son will have a good life . . . using a gun . . . that is not the good choice . . . give the baby to Emily . . . it's a letter for Michael – when you think he's old enough . . . Daddy loves you . . . up to the moon . . ._

"Michael!"

His eyes snapped open.

_**He is the best man who, when making his plans, fears and reflects on everything  
that can happen to him, but in the moment of action is bold. ~ Herodotus**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required,**_

_**and to whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more.**_

_**(Luke, 12:48 KJV)**_

A/N: This chapter mostly explores Jason's relationship with Monica and his men. It takes place almost entirely on Wind Island. I hope you enjoy it, Lisa

**Wind Island, Maine**

**Saturday, October 23, 2010**

**Day 6 of Recovery**

**Jason's Room**

**10:00 AM**

Jason was finally able to sit up some in the hospital bed that had been his home for the past six days. His fever had finally broken early in the morning of the 21st and after almost two more days of heavy sedation he was now fully conscious. He would finally be able to get a full report from the guards on all that had transpired while he was out of commission. He also wanted to talk with his mother.

Doc entered the room right after Mrs. Beaufort and his wife finished getting Jason settled for the day.

"Well, Jason, it's good to see you getting better. How's the pain?" Doc said.

"It's fine, Doc. Listen, I need you to do what ever you have to do, I will do what ever I have to to get in traveling shape. I have to be back in Port Charles on the 30th for the Oktoberfest Fair. I can't miss it."

"Jason, you were seriously wounded. I almost lost you on the table in Port Charles and I did lose you on the table once here. What is so important about the festival? Bernie and his staff can take care of everything. In fact, he sent over some info to keep you up to date. If he was having a problem . . ."

"No, no, Doc . . . I don't care about the arrangements. That's Bernie and JoeCats' area." He said quietly, "At the fair I'll get to see Elizabeth and the boys and it won't be obvious, there will be a lot of kids and people there."

Doc Samuels was a bit taken aback by the simplicity of his boss's reasoning for going to a Fair that he would never normally go to whether he was sponsoring it or not. And, he was now sure that the Festival was designed to not only raise needed funds for a worthy cause but also to give one of the most powerful men on the east coast a chance to see what should be considered his family.

"Okay, Jason. We'll get you out of that bed and to the fair. That gives us six plus days of healing time. So, here's the deal, you stay in the bed . . . no pushing the envelope. You have plenty of people who will do whatever you need so you can spend as much time as possible just healing. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Okay, I want you to rest today, but Enzo, Danny and Iggy would like to see you. After I check you over, and you have some lunch and then some rest, I'll send them in." He heard a rustle behind him and turned to find his boss's Mother in the doorway.

"Good morning, Dr. Quartermaine. The patient is awake, come on in," Doc looked back at Jason and gave him a reassuring look.

Monica strode directly to the bed. She had been waiting for Jason to be able to talk for several days. She was just happy that he was through the worst. She knew he would heal quickly, she had seen it before.

"I'm going to leave you two alone. I'll be back later, Jason." He nodded to his boss, and said, "Dr. Quartermaine, he's all yours."

As Doc left an uncomfortable silence enveloped the room. Monica pulled the chair she had been using for the past six days closer to the bed and she reached for her son's hand, the one she had been holding onto for the past week. And, to her surprise, he did not pull away.

"Jason, it so good to see you awake, finally," she said softly. "You gave us quite a scare."

He looked at his Mother, shyly and said softly, "I'm so sor . . ."

"No, Jason. Please, do not apologize. You have nothing to apologize for, you did nothing wrong. You went to visit your sister's tomb and someone tried to kill you."

Jason was shocked at her direct statement. "Monica . . . Mom, you shouldn't have been here. I appreciate it, I do. But, it was wrong for the guys to bring you here."

"Jason, this is not the time for this discussion, but you need to know, that there was no other place I should have been than right here with my son. I've treated you very badly and you've been allowed to live without family for far too long. We can talk more later, now, you need to rest."

Jason started to protest, "Bu . . .

"Doctor's orders." She gave his hand a small squeeze, "Please, Jason. You've been up for several hours with very little pain meds, you need the rest. I know you've been through this before, and I've been told by your guys and your doctor how strong you are and I've seen it myself. But, for now, just humor your undeserving mother, okay?"

He smiled his trademark smirk, "Okay, Doctor, for now. I will rest, for now."

Within minutes his battered body was asleep.

**Wind Island House Kitchen**

**11:30 AM**

Danny walked into the kitchen that had been temporarily set up as a war room. He had just returned from two days at the safehouse in The Keys where he and Phil were interrogating Jason's shooter.

Enzo asked if he learned anything new from the shooter. Danny gave him a concise report and then asked, "How is Jason? Will we get to see him today?"

Enzo confirmed that Jason was much improved and they would be seeing him later in the day. He then asked, "Are you ready?"

Danny nodded, "I am. You?"

Enzo looked over to Iggy and then back at Danny, "We both are."

The three men studied each other silently for a few minutes, then Enzo said, "Let's get as much information together as we can. Spinelli will be here tomorrow around noon. We should know enough by that time to help Jason put a plan in motion. Understood?"

Both Danny and Iggy, nodded their consent and understanding.

**Wind Island House Guest Room**

**12:00 PM**

Monica went to use the secure phone in her room. Since leaving Port Charles, she had been keeping up with things at home and at the hospital, however, she hadn't anticipated being here for so long when Bernie and Spinelli came to tell her about Jason. But at that time she had no idea of the extent of the damage done to her son. Her desire to stay with Jason meant she would miss her weekly visit with Elizabeth and the boys. And, at this point, being with her son was more important to her.

"Elizabeth? It's Monica. How are you?"

"Oh, hi, Monica, I'm good. How about you? Where are you . . . I haven't seen you since Emily's Ball . . . I got your message, but the boys missed you last week!"

"Yes, I know. I needed to leave early the next morning. An old friend of mine who's been ill asked me to come out and be with her, I'm still here."

"Oh, okay. And are you alright?" Elizabeth asked with concern. "You sound a bit tired."

"No, no . . . I'm fine, really. But I probably won't be home for another few days and I won't be able to be with you and the boys tomorrow. I'm sorry to give you such short notice."

"Oh, no, Monica. I understand, and the boys will, too. You do what you have to."

"Elizabeth? I have another favor to ask you."

"Sure, what is it? What do you need?"

"I'm chairing one of the committees for the Oktoberfest Fair and Carnival for Child Safety. We have a meeting scheduled for tomorrow and, of course, I can't make it. Would you consider stepping in for me at the meeting? The committee is the one setting up the costume parade and competition."

"Oh, Monica, that's no problem. Where's the meeting? Can you get me any info on it?"

"The meeting is at the Jace Building, but if you're worried about running into Jason, don't be. I know that he's out of town."

Elizabeth's silence was a clear indication that running into Jason was precisely her concern. But, then she said, "If you can get me some information on the committee, what's going on, what still needs to be done, I'll be happy to take care of it for you, Monica."

"That's great, Elizabeth. I'll have Alice bring over the folder from the house. Will you be at home this afternoon?"

"I'll be here all afternoon. If I'm not here ask Alice to leave the package by the back door, okay?"

"Okay, good. Thank you for doing this Elizabeth. I know its last minute."

"Oh, no, Monica, really. It's my pleasure. Take care of yourself. Will you be home for the fair?"

"I will be there and I'm still taking the boys. Thanks, again, for taking the meeting."

"Okay, the boys are excited about the fair. I'll talk to you soon." As Elizabeth hung up the phone, she started to wonder how Monica knew that Jason was out of town, it's not something he would usually tell her. In fact, he kept his contact with Monica to a minimum. She hadn't seen Jason anywhere around town since the night of the ball, six days ago. For the first time she started to wonder why.

**The New York Extended Care Facility**

**New York City, NY**

**1:30 PM**

Carly got up from her chair at Michael's bedside to greet the doctor as he came through the door.

"Dr. Simonson, thank you so much for coming in on a Saturday."

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Jacks?"

Nervously she asked, "I know you started running tests this week and I wanted to know if you have gotten any results?"

"Actually, Mrs. Jacks, we have run most of the tests we thought applicable, but your son has not been responsive to any of them."

"So, the brain activity that you thought you saw was a mistake?" Her concern and fear resurfacing, "Is that what you're saying, Dr. Simonson?"

"Mrs. Jacks, your son seemed to be having a spike in brain activity at least once each week for the past several months." Dr. Simonson explained patiently, "Now, I pulled all his EEG read-outs for the past six months and the activity spike is there, at least once a week, but it was not there this week. We do not know why."

**Wind Island, Maine**

**Jason's Room**

**5:30 PM**

Monica was becoming increasingly curious about her son in his position as Crime Lord of Port Charles and international mogul and philanthropist -- an odd mix, to be sure. She found the dynamic between him and his men facinating. Over the past six days she had never seen men sacrifice sleep and food the way these men did in order to track down every single lead they had on the perpetrator of the attack on her son.

She found herself shamelessly listening outside her son's recovery room while he conducted a meeting with his men. The first since his attempted murder. Doc saw her lurking and putting his finger to his lips told her to stay quiet.

Enzo followed by Danny and Iggy entered Jason's room with a quiet that belied the size and strength of the men. They each seemed quite nervous. All three had been working around the clock to uncover the identity of the shooter's employer. Danny had just arrived back at Wind Island earlier today. She suddenly realized that they were waiting for Jason to speak.

"Hey, guys," Jason said after a few seconds.

Enzo said, "Jason, it's good to see you awake and feeling better. Are you sure this is a good time? Doc told us that you needed to go easy . . ."

"Enzo, it's okay," he said matter-of-factly. "You should know that. Now, what have you found out?"

Enzo brought Jason up to speed with a remarkable economy of words, followed by Danny who gave a similar report on what he was able to learn from the shooter.

Enzo then said, "Jason, Spinelli called. He'll be here tomorrow by about noon. He said he found out some interesting information. He seems very excited about it. He also told me to tell you that he was bringing a friend with him."

"Okay. He didn't tell you anything more specific?"

"No, Jason, he didn't." Enzo said, "Spin said he had to do some further checking on what he found."

"Okay, good. Is there anything else?"

Enzo, Danny and Iggy suddenly stood even straighter, if that was possible, than they were just moments ago. With the simultaneous precision of Rockettes the three men drew their guns and proceeded to remove the ammunition clip.

Enzo was the first to move closer to Jason's bedside. "Jason, there are no words . . ."

Jason interrupted, "Enzo, this is not necessary."

"Please, Jason, just because we are friends doesn't mean I owe you less or am entitled to special treatment. You know that this is necessary to maintain order." And he continued, "There is no excuse for my neglect and my failure to protect you as you should have been. I take full responsibility and can only extend my sincere apology. I am very sorry that you had to suffer for my inadequacy and ask, though it is not deserved, for your mercy and grace." And with that he extended his gun and clip to Jason's reluctantly outstretched hand. After relieving himself of his gun, he stepped away from Jason's bed with the slightest inclination of his head.

Danny and then Iggy approached Jason's bed and made a similar declaration and relinquished their guns to Jason.

Again, Enzo acted as spokesman, "Jason, we await your decision. In the meantime, with your permission, we will resume our duties for now."

Jason nodded his assent and watched with troubled eyes as his three top men left his room. He breathed a deep sigh and called out, "Doc, bring my Mother in here. I will explain what just happened."

He had heard his Mother lurking in the hall and he was unsure how he was going to answer the questions he knew she would have about what she had just seen and heard.

Doc came in from the hall with Monica, "Jason, she wanted to know. I'm sorry." Leaning into Jason he said, "She's gotten to know the guys a bit and she wants to know more about you. Let her."

Jason looked at the older man who he trusted with his life, "Okay, next time ask me? Give me ten minutes with my Mother, and then, please ask those three to come back in here."

Doc smiled, nodded to Monica, and left.

"Jason?" Monica came to the bed and sat in her usual chair. "What was that?"

Before answering, he adjusted the bed to a more upright position, or as upright as he could handle.

Monica saw him rub the back of his neck, another tell when he was stressed. "Jason, I don't want to force you to tell me something that makes you uncomfortable. It's just that, for the past six days I've watched these guys work . . ."

"Moni . . . Mom," he interrupted, "its okay. I'll explain. Just bear with me, I'm not sure I should explain."

His Mother was watching him with an intensity he hadn't seen before, he finally said, "What Enzo, Danny and Iggy just did was assume full responsibility for failing to carry out their duties to their boss. It usually means that the person taking responsibility failed to carry out an order or in this case failed to provide adequate protection. And it is necessary to extend an apology, its part of the protocol of this business."

"Okay," she said, "is that why the apology was so formal? But, why did they give you their guns? And, what is the decision you have to make?"

"This is the part you might have trouble with," he explained. "In this business the Boss, basically, owns you. You live by his will and grace. If you have failed your Boss in any major way it is customary to tender your gun with your apology and beg for mercy. It's also a proof of loyalty." He studied his mother for a second, and she nodded for him to continue.

"Then it is up to your Boss to decide if you live or die for your transgression. The point being that your Boss can take your life with the gun you provided, your gun."

Monica could not hide her shock, "But, Jason, these men . . . I've sat with them, talked with them, they . . . hold you in the highest regard. Surely, they can't think that you would . . ."

"Monica . . . Mom, they can and they do, because that's the way it has always been done." He scrubbed his hands over his face, "I tried to stop Enzo. I've known Enzo for eight years. We've been to hell and back, but, you heard, he was determined to make amends."

"What will you do? When do you have to decide?"

"I can decide tonight, tomorrow, next week . . . it depends on how long the Boss wants to draw out the punishment."

"Jason?" He noticed how carefully she was watching him. "Did you ever have to do this with Sonny?"

He was unsure how to answer, he knew how much she hated Sonny and the fact that he had ever worked for him, but he decided he should be as honest with her as he could.

"Yes, I did." He heard and saw her sharp intake of breath.

"Mom, if you want to discuss this further, I understand and will tell you what I can. I would appreciate it if we could do it a little later." He looked beseechingly at Monica, "Please, I would really like to take care of the guys as soon as possible."

"What will you do with these men? Do you hold them responsible?"

"No, I don't." He told her simply. "Would you ask Doc to come in for a minute. I would appreciate it."

Monica left the room and needed only to walk the short distance to the den to find Doc reading the Saturday papers. As she came in he looked up, "Jason is asking for you."

Doc went immediately to Jason's room and after a few minutes left it again. He headed to the temporary war room formerly known as the kitchen. Enzo, Danny and Iggy were all on their respective phones along with Tommy keeping up with normal business activities. As soon as they saw Doc, each man terminated their calls and gave him their full attention.

"Jason would like to see you three, as soon as possible," Doc said indicating Enzo, Danny and Iggy. The three men put on their jackets while leaving the room and walked directly to Jason's room.

Monica returned to Jason's room to find him in as close to a sitting position as his condition would allow. As Jason's guards came in and she turned to leave, Jason said, "Please, stay."

The men had gathered at the foot of Jason's bed, but a respectful distance away. Enzo stepped forward and addressed Jason, "You wanted to see us?"

"Yes, I did." Jason looked each one in the eyes before saying, "I appreciate that each of you feels personally responsible for the fact that someone attempted to murder me the other night. I understand the sense of failure that you are experiencing. But it is unnecessary. We, all four of us, investigated the threat as soon as we learned about it and could find nothing. I found nothing, you found nothing, this does not make you or me negligent or inadequate, it makes us unlucky." Each man could barely contain their surprise at his words.

"Enzo, Daniel, Ignacio, I trust you with my life. I have for a long time and you have trusted me with yours. None of you are at fault here. In fact, the fault is entirely mine." Enzo attempted to interrupt him, but Jason held up his hand to stop him.

"The fault for this incident is clearly mine, I knew there was a threat. I should never have gone anywhere that could be associated with me or anyone who knows me. I am sincerely sorry that my carelessness put us all in jeopardy. And while I appreciate your apology and gesture, it really was not warranted." He picked up each man's gun and returned the clip to the chamber.

Looking at each man, he said, "Thank you. I am grateful for your protection and your loyalty. I couldn't think of three better men to trust with my life."

He held out each man's gun and as each man came up to retrieve his weapon Jason thanked each one individually.

Monica could barely keep her tears from falling. It was quite a moving exchange amongst men who lived by a harsh code that was barely understood by anyone on the outside.

**Sunday, October 24, 2010**

**Day 7 of Recovery**

**Jason's Room**

**12:00 PM**

Spinelli watched his mentor and his best friend from the doorway, "Stone Cold?" Jason looked up from the book he was reading.

"Spinelli . . . hey, did you just get here?" As the young man approached, Jason could see that Spin had had little sleep and concern was etched on his face.

"Stone Cold . . . it is gratifying to see my stoic master regaining his former vigor after so heinous an attack on your valuable life-force. I have been much distressed to understand how this most disastrous assault on your heroic person could have been perpetrated."

Spinelli paced back and forth at the foot of the bed, and turning back to Jason, continued, "What foolish knave would dare to visit such a detestable violation on you . . . the most feared crime lord on the East Coast . . . a man feared on two continents"?

Jason watched and listened to his friend rail with a bemused look at Monica, who Spinelli seemed not to have noticed sitting on the left side of the bed.

Spin came to the right side of Jason's bed, "Be assured, valiant Master, that we, your loyal minions, have marshaled all of Stone Cold's considerable forces to unearth any and all vermin who could possibly provide information to locate the Darth Evil Doers. And when they are brought to light the wrath of Stone Cold . . . the fury of the gods . . . will visit on them a punishment that fits this enormous and abhorrent atrocity. Rest assured honorable Master, no stone has been left unturned."

As Spinelli wound down, Jason said, "Are you done?"

"Yes, Master."

"DON'T call me 'master' . . . and how much soda have you been drinking?"

"Sadly, Mas . . . um . . . Stone Cold, The Jackal has had to rely on his libation of choice to keep abreast of all that has happened to your gallant personage and to launch far reaching investigations to secure information on the Dastardly Marksman who has so scandalously damaged you."

Jason could not contain the spike of fear that went through him, he cocked his head and said, "Spi . . .nel . . .li? You didn't . . ."

"No, Stone Cold, no. I did not break my promise to you. As promised, I did not hack into the FBI. I know that you have nothing left to trade for my continued freedom. I contacted The FBI Priestess of the Internet and begged a favor to get the deeper information that might prove useful in pinpointing the Dastardly Marksman."

Monica cleared her throat, "Hello, Spinelli. Thank you for all your hard work gathering information to learn who employed the man who shot Jason."

Spinelli was surprised when he heard the Matriarch of Stone Cold address him from the other side of the bed. "Venerable Matriarch of Stone Cold, a thousand apologies, in my fervor to see my intrepid friend, I regret to admit that I did not take note of your presence. I most humbly beg your forgiveness. It was not my intention to ignore the revered Mother of my most esteemed mentor."

Monica could not keep from smiling and could barely contain laughter, "Its okay, Spinelli. I'm going to leave you and Jason alone, I know you need to talk."

She gave Jason a small comforting pat on his shoulder, "I'll see you in a bit, please don't tire yourself."

"I won't, thank you, Mom."

"I see that my mas . . . Stone Cold has reached a new level of comfort with his Matriarch. This is a welcome turn of events, is it not?"

"Yeah, Spinelli, it is." Jason studied the young man who has been his trusted confidant for almost four years. "Spinelli, you need to get some rest. I appreciate all your efforts, and I know that they are considerable, but its okay to take a break, you know."

"In true Stone Cold fashion, and with due respect, I will take a break when the job at hand is completed." Spinelli countered.

His mentor and friend gave his usual taciturn nod of acceptance.

Spinelli continued, "Stone Cold? I took the liberty of bringing a friend with me, today."

"Enzo told me that you were bringing someone. Please tell me you did not bring Maxie."

"No, Stone Cold, I brought someone for you."

_**Humility must always be the portion of any man who receives acclaim earned**_

_**in the blood of his followers and the sacrifices of his friends.**_

_**~ Dwight D. Eisenhower**_

______________________________________________________________

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of ABC, Inc. and The Disney Corporation.

No copyright infringement intended. Character's identities are merely borrowed for fun.


	6. Chapter 6

**.:Chapter 6:.**

_**Care should be taken that the punishment does not exceed the guilt; and also that  
some men do not suffer for offenses for which others are not even indicted.~ Cicero**_

A/N: Now in this chapter, at least two of your questions will be answered, and I can pretty much guarantee that you will be surprised about one of them. That said, this chapter picks up only a few minutes after the last chapter ended and takes place, for the most part, on Wind Island. I do hope you enjoy it -- and let me hear from you! Thanks for reading, Lisa

**Wind Island, Maine**

October 24, 2010  
Day 7 of Recovery

Shortly after 12:00 PM

She just left her son's room as he talked with Spinelli. She had to smile as she thought about the odd pair her taciturn son made with the kinetic Spinelli. She had only just learned, listening to the guards, the lengths to which her son had gone to clear Spinelli of a life-sentence based on terrorism charges from the FBI. She also learned how hard her son had worked to keep the worst of his business from touching Spinelli. She realized that Jason tried to protect Spinelli the way a father would a son, or the way an older brother would a younger brother.

Unfortunately, her son had not enjoyed that same kind of protection from Sonny. No, her son had been used and, more than likely, abused for Sonny's own purposes. She was still wrestling with the conversation she had just had with him before Spinelli arrived . . .

_She had been watching him from the door and as she turned to leave, he called out to her._

"Mom, how long are you going to stand out there?"

Coming in to his room she asked, "Which travel book are you reading?" Noting his surprise, she said with a smile, as she sat down, "I've learned from the guards that travel books are your reading material of choice."

"Yeah, but I'm not concentrating," he admitted.

"You look tired, Jason. Why don't you get some sleep?"

"No, it's okay. I'm really not tired, just distracted, there's a lot going on right now and I can't really do anything to help my men."

"They seem a very capable crew. I know you need to be in the thick of things, but right now your men need you to heal so you can do what they need you to do and that's lead."

Jason barely hid his astonishment at this turn she seemed to have taken since being at Wind Island. I noticed his surprise, "I've learned a few things about you since being here, Jason. I would like to know more. Are you up for a few questions?"

She saw him stiffen as though bracing himself for the questions she was about to ask.

"You have questions about yesterday?" He asked.

"I do and you said you would answer them," I said.

"I will to the extent that I can. What do you want to know?"

"Okay, when I asked you if you ever had to make an apology to Sonny like your guards made to you yesterday, you told me that you had."

He nodded.

"Do you think we could talk about that, just a bit?"

"What would you like to know," he asked quietly.

"Okay, well cutting to the chase. Why did you have to make that kind of apology? Was it more than once? How many times, Jason?"

"Okay, first, I'm still here and it happened two times with Sonny. Both times it was for disobeying an order."

"I didn't think you ever disobeyed Sonny," I couldn't hide my surprise.

"I did, more times than you would imagine."

"And you had to do this, offer him your life for disobeying him, two times. Why, then, only two times?"

"Sonny got particularly angry on both of those times." He shrugged and shook his head slightly. "For other times I failed to comply, Sonny found other ways to punish me," he explained. "The details don't matter. What matters is that I came through all of that."

"The details do matter, Jason. I don't like Sonny, but I know how highly you regard him, and that you probably disobeyed him rarely. What would cause you to do that with this possible punishment hanging over your head?"

I watched him struggle to answer me. It was as though he didn't want to say anything that would make me upset. "Just tell me, Jason, please," I said in as reassuring a tone as I could.

He saw me watching him, waiting for him to answer, taking a deep breath, he said quietly, "The first time it happened was when I purposely re-interpreted his order to make Zander Smith disappear and then I lied to Sonny about carrying out the order."

"What did Zander do? Can you tell me?"

"He stole half a million dollars from Sonny and deposited the money in one of my accounts so it looked like I had stolen from Sonny." He answered. "So, instead of making Zander disappear the way I was ordered to, I made arrangements for Zander to get out of town with Elizabeth. Things went wrong and Elizabeth went to Sonny, not knowing my orders, and begged for Zander to be allowed to stay in Port Charles."

"I see." I had to ask why he did it. "You didn't like Zander. Why save him and put yourself at risk? For Emily?"

He studied me for a moment and then gave a quick shake of his head, saying, "No, I did it for Elizabeth. She asked me not to retaliate against Zander and I promised that I wouldn't because he was important to her. I promised her before I got my orders from Sonny, but I had no right to promise Elizabeth when I knew what my orders would be regarding Zander."

"Ah . . . so . . . you chose Elizabeth." I nodded my understanding more to myself than for Jason. "And the second time?"

Jason scrubbed the back of his neck, and looking down at his hands, finally said, "The second time was when I refused to have AJ arrested for torching the Oasis and, instead, covered for him with the owner and the cops." He heard me gasp before I could catch myself. "Sonny was very angry about AJ allowing Courtney to become a stripper and for telling Michael that he and I were criminals and killed people."

"Jason? Look at me, please. Did AJ know that you covered for him?"

"Yes, and he wasn't happy about it," he said simply, looking at me directly.

"Then why did you do it? Why did you put yourself at risk for a brother who hated you?

He hesitated before answering, kneading his hands in what I now knew was a nervous gesture, looking away he said, "I did it for Michael . . . AJ was his father." Turning to look at me, he said, shyly, "I did it for Emily, for Courtney, for Grandmother . . . for you."

Looking back down at his hands, he said, "I knew how much AJ meant to all of you . . . and I didn't want to take something else away from you."

I could feel my heart pounding, I found myself openly studying my son in absolute awe of his actions. "Your life has been very hard, Jason." I wanted, so much, to convey the glimmer of understanding I was getting of him. "I don't think I ever realized how hard or how disciplined until this past week with your doctor and your men. It's been quite an eye-opener."

I noticed him studying me trying to figure out what I meant, what I was thinking.

"No, Jason, don't get this wrong. It's rather an old school way of doing things isn't it? Respect and obedience are its foundation, correct?"

Jason nodded his agreement, adding, "And loyalty, those are the three."

"Showing disrespect or disobedience brings all order into question, right?"

He nodded again.

"It brings your loyalty into question?"

"Yes. It's a feudal system, a martial system. It always has been."

"And failing to safeguard your boss this is, what, tantamount to mutiny?"

He smiled a bit at this, "In a manner of speaking, yes."

"So, then this is the highest offence?"

He just nodded, "More or less." 

_I finally realized how harsh and demanding my son's life had been and was, still. Thinking back on my role in pushing him out on the street, it was hard to believe that I could be forgiven for such an offence. Although Jason had never pointed the finger of blame at me, I knew that I was, in part, responsible for setting him on the path that led to this life._

Thinking back to this minutes-old conversation she was a bit surprised at how open he had been with her. She was sure that there was plenty he wasn't telling her, but that's the way it had to be and she was beginning to understand that better now than she had before.

**Wind Island House - Kitchen/War Room  
Approximately 12:30 PM**

As she wandered into the kitchen, now a war room, the six men gathered quickly got to their feet. She was a little dismayed at the newest addition. She never expected to see a priest sitting with Jason's guards as though it was something he did everyday. Maybe it was. At this point it would not have surprised her.

Monica looked at him again, and as he came towards her she realized that it was Father Coates, from The Queen of Angels Church in Port Charles.

"Dr. Quartermaine. I'm Father Coates." He warmly clasped her hand, "How is Jason doing today?"

"He's doing a bit better, thank you . . . Father."

"Please, Dr. Quartermaine, if it's more comfortable for you, call me Matthew."

She just nodded, and asked, "You came all this way just to see Jason?"

"Yes."

"May I ask, why?"

"I am your son's priest, Dr. Quartermaine. He is one of my parishioners. I was informed of his circumstances by Mr. Spinelli, who also thought that Jason might have a need to see me."

As she was about to respond, Spinelli came in saying, "Father Coates, excuse me, Stone Cold, um, Jason extends his apologies. I do as well. I neglected to tell him firstly that you had come with me. Please forgive me."

"Of course, Spinelli," placing a comforting hand on Spin's shoulder, "please don't worry about it."

"Thank you, Father."

Turning to the men still standing around the table Father Coates asked, "Doc, is Jason up for a visit?"

"I am sure you would be, as always, a most welcome visitor," Doc replied as he shepherded Father Coates towards Jason's room.

Spinelli noticed that Monica looked a bit distressed, going to her, he said, "Venerable Matriarch?" She appeared not to hear him. "Dr. Quartermaine?" Not getting a response, she seemed lost in her own thoughts, he turned to Enzo. "Enzo?"

Enzo came over to Monica and taking her gently by the arm led her to the table. "Dr. Quartermaine, please, sit down. It's been quite a couple of days." He lowered her gently into one of the kitchen chairs. "Spin, ask Mrs. Beaufort to bring in some tea for Dr. Quartermaine. Iggy, get Doc."

Minutes later Doc came back into the kitchen with Father Coates. As he entered, Monica looked up at him with a bewildered look that was heart-wrenching. "Dr. Samuels, could we go some place to talk?"

"Absolutely, I'm going to have Tommy," he motioned the man over, "take you to the small den. I'll join you in just a few minutes, alright?"

"Yes, that would be fine," she said getting up to leave. Tommy was instantly at her side placing a steadying hand under her elbow and escorted her gently out of the room.

"Enzo," Doc said. "It's going to be fine. Listen, Jason is going to want to meet on the information Spinelli found. I suggest scheduling the meeting for after the service."

"Father," Enzo asked, "do you want to use the chapel or will you hold the service in Jason's room?"

"I think we should do the service in the chapel so Jason can rest. I'll hear confessions after I finish with Jason. How would that be?"

"We'll get it ready for you, right away," Enzo said. "Thank you, Father."

Father Coates nodded as he followed Doc back out towards Jason's room.

**Jason's Room  
12:45 PM**

Doc filled Father Coates in on Jason's condition as they walked the short distance to Jason's room.

Just before entering, Doc whispered to the Priest, "He probably needs to talk to you more than he's willing to admit."

Father Coates nodded his understanding and followed him into the room. Jason was still in as close to a sitting position as his condition would allow considering his entire abdomen had been shot at and operated on twice.

Doc entered Jason's room with Father Coates. "Jason, Father Coates is here. Please, Father, bear in mind that the patient has to get some rest and he's carrying a lot right now. Maybe you can convince him to talk to you," Doc said as he left.

As Father Coates approached his bed, Jason accepted his outstretched hand, "It's good to see you, Jason. How are you feeling?"

"I'll heal, Father. Thank you. I apologize for keeping you waiting. I didn't know it was you that Spinelli brought with him."

"Oh, no, Jason. It's okay, really. It's been a while since I've been up here." Each man was thinking about the last time they were in a similar situation, but it wasn't quite the same then as it was now. "Jason, what can I do for you?"

Jason shook his head, "I don't need anything, thank you, Father. I appreciate you coming all this way. I'm sorry that Spinelli disrupted your schedule. He shouldn't have, but he means well."

Father Coates was used to Jason's reticence to ask anything for himself. He was not a stupid man; he was all too aware of who and what Jason Morgan was and what he did. He and Jason had a relationship that went beyond parishioner and priest, penitent and confessor.

His first memory of Jason coming to Mass with Sonny Corinthos was not a stand-out in his mind. The Baptism of the child thought to be Jason's son, Michael, was definitely a standout and had to be remembered with a smile just because of the craziness of his family. From that point on he and Jason had forged a relationship of mutual respect. A regular attendee at Mass and a most covertly generous benefactor of the church, Jason did not believe that this bought him absolution of any sort.

And because Jason denied himself the balm of confession, he was simply Jason's confidant and sounding board. And if that's what this particular parishioner needed from him, then that's what he would provide. He closed the room's doors. And walking back to Jason, took the chair his mother had used for the past week.

"I saw Elizabeth and the boys at services last week. Would you like to talk about them?" Father Coates asked.

Jason felt his heart constrict like a band squeezing it to half its size, but calmly said, "No, Father. Thank you."

"You know Morgan started his confirmation classes last month. He's doing very well, Jason."

"I'm glad. He's a good kid. Today's his birthday," Jason replied, sadness clouding his eyes.

"Is it?" Noting his parishioner's disquiet, Father Coates decided to move from these topics to one more present. "I was surprised to see your Mother here. I know how hard you work to keep the people you care about away from you and your life. How has it been to have her here?

"It's been okay, Father, but I don't like her to worry, and she does." Jason studied Father Coates before continuing, "She wants to get to know me better, but I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Jason, I think allowing your Mother to get to know you is a fine idea. You deserve family just as much as anyone else. We've talked about this before, would you like to talk about this now?

"No, Father, not now," Jason looked passed him and rubbed the back of his neck trying to relieve some of the tension in his back. Father Coates had seen this stress signal many times in the years he had known Jason.

Father Coates placed his missal on Jason's bed and took out his stole, kissed it and draped it around his neck, "How about we talk about what happened with the guards yesterday, and then about the information Spinelli gave you this afternoon."

Jason's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he started to protest.

Father Coates held up his hand to stop him, "Enzo told me what happened yesterday. He thought you might need to talk about it and Spinelli didn't give me specifics. He only told me that what he was going to tell you would break your heart."

Jason said nothing. Father Coates watched him study his hands and he waited. Finally, Jason said, "I appreciate that Spinelli and Enzo were concerned. There really is no need. I know what has to be done and, somehow, I don't know, yet, how, I will do what needs to be done."

"Jason, please, let me help you. Let me take some of this burden from you, for now."

"Father, you can't take any of this," he stated, quietly, "but, I'm grateful for your offer, as always."

"Jason, I know I can't change anything that you are facing, but sometimes sharing the burden, even through talking, can lessen the impact of that burden." He knew Jason needed to talk. They had been down this road before. "Jason?"

It took a bit of time for him to answer, finally, he looked at his priest, "Yes, Father."

"Would you like me to hear your confession?"

Jason knew that he could comfortably talk with Father Coates about almost everything he had been thinking and feeling for the past day and a half. He knew, too, from prior experience that Father Coates could be trusted. Although the priest insisted that God's forgiveness was there for the asking, he was a pragmatist, and his sins were too vast to be undone with prayers and asking. And whether, or not, he actually indulged in the sacrament of confession, he knew that Father Coates would extend the sanctity of the confessional to everything that was discussed between them.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he ground out, "Yes, Father, I would."

**Port Charles, NY**

The Jace Building  
12:45 PM

As she made her way down Van Ness Avenue, she thought back to the condition of this part of Port Charles just a few short years ago, until Jason had embarked on the ambitious project of rejuvenating the waterfront district.

In a few minutes she found herself walking through the impressive brass and glass front doors of the newest addition to the area, The Jace Building, home of the Invictus International Foundation. She had passed the building many times but had never been in it although she always wondered what a building built by Jason Morgan would look like. Of course, he really didn't care – he would be just as happy in a plain old, stripped out warehouse as long as it was quiet and he could get his work done, she thought remembering his room at Jake's and his penthouse before Courtney added "that woman's touch" more than seven years ago and last time she was there it hadn't changed.

As she approached the front security desk she was awed by the soaring height of the lobby that somehow let light in from all four sides of the building, the beautiful stone floor and deep wood paneling – it looked – inviting. The man behind the desk was as well-built as she would have expected of all of Jason's men.

"Hi, I'm Elizabeth Webber, I'm here for the meeting with the . . ."

"Yes, ma'am," pressing a button on the phone. "You're here to meet with _The Kids First & Always Foundation_, for the Ocktoberfest Fair. Mr. Catapano, Mr. Abrams and the committee are expecting you."

"Yes, I am. Which office do I need to go to?" As she finished speaking a tall, lanky man approached her.

"Ms. Webber, I'm Mitch. I'll take you upstairs, please . . ." indicating for her to follow him to the elevators.

As she walked into the conference room on the top floor she was warmly greeted by JoeCats, Bernie and the other committee members of the Oktoberfest Fair and Festival that was taking place this coming Saturday, October 30th.

**Jason's Room  
7:45 PM**

Doc could feel the waves of tension and anger fairly roiling off his patient. As he checks Jason's vitals the steadiness of his heartbeat and blood pressure belie what could only be described as the barely contained fury that was radiating from him. As Doc finished treating Jason for the night, Spinelli and the guards came in for the meeting they had been waiting to have since Spinelli had arrived. They immediately noticed that their boss, mentor and friend had regained his trademark and legendary focus.

When Spinelli came in he saw that Jason still wore the same look he had earlier in the day. I put that look of despair mixed with rage on my Master's normally stoic face. Why did I have to be the one to deliver such shattering information?

_When my Master's Venerable Matriarch left us, I knew I could no longer avoid, as much as I wanted to, imparting the devastating information uncovered while investigating the shooters of my esteemed mentor._

"Spinelli," he said, in that patiently calm voice he usually used with me. "Tell me."

"Stone Cold?" My usual nervous energy was knotted into a tenseness and stillness of body I had not experienced before brought about by the odious information I had to deliver. "I have uncovered some disturbing information in my investigation of the Dastardly Marksman and his cohorts." I began fidgeting with Jason's sheets.

"Spi..nel..li? Stop playing with the sheets . . . and just tell me."

"It is information most dire . . . and I am not sure you should be . . ."

"Spinelli! Just tell me." I think my Master wanted to make my task easier as he always did. He leaned toward me causing himself, I was sure, unnecessary pain, and said, "Would it make you feel better if I tell you that you will probably only confirm something I already suspect?"

"The Master suspects Mr. Sir as the one who wants to take your life-force?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

The look on the face of my friend and Master is one I don't think I will ever forget. It was fleeting, Jason hid his emotions well, but it was long enough to be seared into my memory forever. It was the look of a devoted protégé betrayed by his master, of a child betrayed by a father, of a brother betrayed by a brother. It was the single most horrible look I had ever seen on the chiseled visage of my imperturbable mentor.

Spinelli was brought back to the present as Jason's guards streamed into the room. Enzo, Danny and Iggy had already been through all the paperwork that Spinelli had brought with him. It was detailed banking records of the shooter that traced all his transactions for the past six months. Spinelli had also tracked down banking transactions on the two other shooters that had been in position to take Jason out, but had been unsuccessful because Jason had been smart enough to vary his route.

Each of the other shooters was being kept in different safehouses around the country. The shooter who took Jason down was still in the house in The Keys with Phil and Tad. The other shooters were in safehouses in Kentucky and a private island off the coast of North Carolina.

The most important information was yet to be discussed.

As everyone settled, Jason asked, "Enzo, are any of the shooters affiliated with a particular group, assassin's cartel or are they all private?"

"They're all private, Jason."

"Okay, that's good. That's a big plus," Jason commented.

Spinelli interrupted, "If I may be so bold, Stone Cold, why is that a 'plus'?"

Jason answered quickly, "Because it means the contract is theirs alone, and no one will pick it up to carry out. An assassin belonging to a group, doesn't own the contract, the contact is for the group, it doesn't matter if you take one out, another will pick-up the contract until the target is terminated. Understand?"

"Understood, thank you," Spinelli said with remarkable brevity.

"Okay, now let's talk about Sonny," Jason said calmly. He was doing his best to tamp down his anger and resentment and he knew his men were doing their best to keep themselves in check as well.

His three guards exchanged glances with each other and Spinelli. No one was talking.

Suddenly, it was Spinelli who broke the silence, "Stone Cold . . . Jason . . . this is impossible. Mr. Sir, ye Gods, I can't call him that, Corinthos has got to go. He hired three men . . . three . . . to take you out! He is volatile and untrustworthy, erratic in his behavior. He has shown himself to be the worst sort of person. I know that once he was your Master, your teacher and has been your friend, but, Stone Cold he is not your friend anymore. Obviously . . ."

Jason let Spinelli rant for as long as he could before interrupting, "SPINELLI! Calm down. This is business and we need to do what we do in business." He raised his chin and eyebrows at Spinelli and it was a look the young man could not misinterpret.

Turning to his chief guard, Jason said, "Where is he now? Enzo?"

"Mr. Corinthos is currently at Greystone. Our guards have him under twenty-four hour surveillance and we have activated the motion detectors that we installed around the property last year. He has paid three visits to the Jace Building since you've been here. He's attempting to see Bernie and Francis has stopped him each time. He is getting increasingly irritated and should make a move any day."

"Good," Jason said. "Spinelli, can you put something on Sonny's accounts that lets you know when there is activity? Can you do it so that it can't be traced? I don't want you getting in anymore trouble. Got it?"

"Yes, Stone Cold, I can put a tracer on the Corinthos accounts. I have learned the hubris and arrogance of my mistakes," he rushed. "I will do everything I can so as not to cause you any further trouble."

"Spinelli, it's okay. Just do what you do and be careful."

"Will do, Stone Cold. The trace is already in place, as soon as you tell me I will activate it."

"Do it now, Spinelli." A few strokes on the keyboard in front of him and the trace was activated.

"Jason?" Danny called out to him. "Is it your intention to take Sonny out?"

It was not an uncalled for question. In this business it's kill or be killed. And there is no in-between. Spinelli had warned him that Sonny would try to kill him or force him to kill Sonny. Others had warned him too. It was just too hard for him to wrap his mind around Sonny trying to kill him, except that this was not the first time.

Not one of his men would bat an eye about taking Sonny out. But, how they were going to react to his plan, he did not even want to guess. His men would obey his wishes, but that didn't mean they would agree.

"Spinelli?"

"Yes, Stone Cold?"

"Would you go check on my Mother, for me, and Father Coates, please?"

Spinelli was surprised at the request, but realized that Jason didn't want him in the room for the rest of the meeting. It would have been disrespectful to his mentor to refuse or hesitate in carrying out the requested task.

"Of course, I will check on your Venerable Matriarch and Most Holy Confessor immediately," he said as he opened the door.

After Spinelli left the room and Jason was sure he was out of ear-shot, he looked at each of his men and then said, "Danny, get rid of the shooters and send a trophy from each one to Sonny, do it in the next twenty-four hours."

"You got it, Jason."

"But . . . Sonny . . . Sonny stays alive, for now."

_**I believe the first test of a truly great man is in his humility. ~ John Ruskin**_


End file.
